Matters of the Heart
by Christie Redfield
Summary: Co-Authored with David Wesker. Set after Magic. Pete & Myka are sent to investigate a series of bizarre attacks only to soon discover that this particular case has also caught the attention of The X-Files Division. Pairings: Pete/Myka, Doggett/Reyes.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Warehouse 13 is © SyFy and the show's creator(s). The X-Files is © Chris Carter, the show's creator. No copyright infringement is intended whatsoever nor is any profit being made from this fanfic; i.e. it is purely non-profit.

Claimer: The only thing David or myself own is this story, nothing more nothing less.

Spoilers: Seasons 8 & 9 of The X-Files, and Season 1 of Warehouse 13.

Feedback: Love it, live for it, cherish it.

Category: Supernatural/Romance

Rating: T

Summary: Co-Authored with David Wesker. Pete & Myka are sent to investigate a series of bizarre attacks only to soon discover that this particular case has also caught the attention of The X-Files Division.

Author(s) Notes: Normally when you think The X-Files, you probably think Mulder and Scully, but for a change, we both decided to use Doggett and Reyes instead, two characters we both would have liked to have seen make an appearance in the latest X-Files movie, _I Want To Believe_, but were both sadly absent. If we do decide to do another X-Files/Warehouse 13 Crossover we'll definitely see about incorporating the original duo, but either way, we both hope you'll enjoy what we have cooked up. :)

-Christie

Matters of the Heart

By Christie Redfield & David Wesker

**The Badlands, South Dakota**

**Leena's Bed & Breakfast**

**5:35 AM**

Myka reached around back behind her head, adjusting her smoothed out hair into a long, slender ponytail as she descended the staircase. Her current attire consisted of long, sky-blue Lycra jogging pants, a matching athletic tank top that left her midriff bare, and her favorite Nike Air Runners. With springtime fast approaching, Myka found her naturally curly hair even more unruly to tame, and humidity didn't help it in the slightest, making her locks even more difficult to maintain. Thank God for straightening irons.

As she neared the bottom of the staircase, Myka could make out the distinct sounds of music coming from the den. "Pete?" Poking her head inside the den, Myka found her partner nowhere in sight. Leena was off in town running errands, meanwhile Claudia was likely still in bed, and Artie was out in the Warehouse. At 5:35 AM Myka found this time the perfect opportunity to throw on her jogging gear, run downstairs and stretch and take to the trails. Who needed coffee?

Turning her head, Myka spied a bright green iPod, which sat plugged into a docking station that consisted of a singular speaker unit, an iHome. She shook her head as she walked over to it, and rested her hands on her knees as she studied the playlist; it had to be Pete's.

Moving to turn it off, Myka paused and shrugged her shoulders, even if it was Van Halen, the music wasn't half bad, and dare she admit it, one of her favorite albums, _5150_. Oh she could only imagine what her partner would think of that admission.

Rolling out a kink in her neck, Myka stepped away from the end table and dropped to a half stooped kneel on one knee, and leaned forward on her other leg, stretching out the stiff, tired muscles. After five minutes she switched legs, repeating the process. Finished, Myka walked over to the couch where she cautiously placed one foot up onto the armrest, and leaned forward, grabbing her ankle with both hands.

She barely heard the sounds of approaching footsteps as the next song started up, a loud and raucous tune, _Get Up _ironically enough. As she moved to shift her other leg up onto the armrest, Myka felt a light tug on her ponytail and quickly spun around, proceeding to roundhouse whoever was behind her in the process.

Pete stepped forward into the kick and hooked her leg with his left arm and pushed slightly back to keep Myka off-balance.

"Easy, Myka," said Pete with a chuckle. "I like the straight-hair look. Can't help playing with your ponytail though. It's very distracting."

Myka fiddled with her ponytail, readjusting at it as she glared back at her partner, leaning against the armrest of the couch for balance. "Do you even act your age the other 10% of the time?" She smiled slightly as she spoke, even if he did annoy her, a small percentage of her was mildly flattered at his compliment, she always thought straightening her hair out made it look dull, flat, and boring.

"Not my fault!" laughed Pete. "Going jogging, huh? Mind if I tag along?"

"You're hopeless." She commented with a shake of her head, at his question she practically rolled her eyes, "Well…yeah…I was planning to…" She remarked with a sigh; she had hoped to use her jog as a chance to get in some me-time, now it appeared she'd have company.

"So can I tag along? Please?" Pete piped up, Myka's expression softened, and she nodded, earning her a bright happy smile from her partner.

Pete was wearing a black pull-over hoodie with black sweatpants and black sneakers with white stripes. He pulled off the hoodie revealing an olive-drab green t-shirt with the United States Marine Corps. Symbol emblazoned on it. He stretched his shoulders and arms out a bit before doing some footwork and shadow-boxing for a few moments.

"It feels great outside, c'mon Myka!"

Pete jogged out of the den and went outside of the inn. Myka found him outside doing some light stretches against the stairs.

Myka smiled as she approached Pete, watching him stretch. Wonders never ceased. At this hour of the morning she half suspected he of all people would still be in bed, prime hibernation hour he'd call it, but no, here he was, up and ready to take on the world.

Trotting down the front steps of the inn, Myka lightly smacked Pete on the shoulder. "C'mon, let's just see if you can try and keep up."

"Great," said Pete. "I'll do some cadence! Ready? Oo-rah!"

Pete took off jogging down the front path of the inn and onto a trail, singing a Marine Corps. cadence all the way. Myka watched him go off for a few moments singing something that was most likely going to be inappropriate. He turned around, still jogging.

"C'mon, recruit!"

Shaking her head, Myka moved to join him.

**Washington, D.C.**

**F.B.I. Headquarters**

**7:42 AM**

John Doggett sat quietly in a set of chairs outside of the office of Deputy Director Alvin Kersh. He had gotten a call from him around 0400 hours and been asked to report at 0800 hours. The nature of the case was left undisclosed over the phone. All the Deputy Director would say was that it was pressing and bore further scrutiny.

Checking his watch, John saw that it was nearly a quarter to eight right now. Picking up a cardboard cup of coffee from the end table near his chair, Doggett took a sip. Hot and bold, just how he liked it. He also had a second cup sitting on the table, but that one was not for him. He had decided to pick up a cup for his partner, Monica Reyes. Sometimes she flew along and forgot to caffeine up.

Setting the coffee back down on the table, John sat back slightly and picked up his newspaper, flipping to the sports section.

Sure enough, moments later, Monica Reyes stepped inside the small secretary's office located outside that of the Deputy Director's. She raised her right hand up in a half wave close to her form as she approached her partner, and smiled at him in greeting. "Hot case?" She teased, indicating his second cup of coffee.

"Don't know yet," Doggett replied as he handed her the coffee.

Monica smiled as she took the offered cup of coffee and sat down next to her partner in one of the empty chairs. Raising the cup of coffee to her lips, Monica took an appreciative whiff of the brew before taking a tentative sip drawing a smile from John, who shook his head before turning back to his paper. The two had remained friends for years, even before working on The X-Files together. Monica would perhaps say the cosmos were falling into alignment; John would chalk it all up to a matter of circumstance, either way as partners they were evenly matched.

"Any idea, what all this is about?" Asked Monica, as she wrapped her hands around the cardboard cup, letting the warmth of the coffee cup erase the chill from her fingers.

"Got me," said John. "He's been keeping his cards close to the vest. Maybe it's an X-File?"

"An X-File? Are you sure? Why did they call us in then, why not Fox and Dana? Are they still on leave?"

"Haven't heard from or about either of 'em in a while."

"Shocking," Replied Monica dryly, apparently lack of information was the norm regarding paranormal cases within the FBI, especially in regards to The X-Files Division. When and if humanly possible, nearly half of the cases they investigated were kept low profile, especially when it came to the bizarre nature of the cases.

Though many of them were often left unsolved, those that were solved were often deemed laughable, even despite the claims made by Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. Even today other agents still could be heard whispering and snickering in the halls over Fox's so called crusade. Only she and John knew the truth, having bore witness to some of the bizarre events themselves. The likes of which could only be explained by having witnessed them alone, and not on paper.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Badlands, South Dakota**

**Leena's Bed & Breakfast**

**6:31 AM**

Pete jogged in place on the porch of the inn as he waited for Myka. He had kept in shape all of his life, but his time in the Marines and then the Secret Service kept him in fighting condition. Myka came jogging up the steps a minute or two after him.

"Not bad," said Pete. "Good run."

"Good run," nodded Myka.

Leena stepped out onto the porch and handed each of them a towel and a cup of iced water.

"Artie needs you two cleaned up and ready for briefing in ten."

"Ten minutes," said Pete. "Copy that."

Jogging off into the inn, Pete pounded his way up the stairs and into his room. A quick shower, a change of clothes and he would be ready for briefing and breakfast.

Myka toweled off her face and neck as she ascended the stairs after Pete, and promptly downed her ice water. Spying that the bathroom was free, Myka quickly ducked inside just as Pete exited his room. She tried to fight back a laugh as she heard him yell out in defeat outside the door.

"Oh come on!"

"Snooze you lose, Pete!"

Four and a half minutes later exactly, Myka exited from the bathroom, dressed in her favorite navy blue terrycloth robe, clean and refreshed.

"Finally!" Pete exclaimed.

"You can rest easy soldier boy, I saved you some hot water." She commented in jest as she walked past him to her room.

"Marine, actually."

Pete jumped inside the bathroom and turned on the shower to be met with ice-cold water. He shook his head and made the best of the situation. It was not the first time he had to shower in cold water. Better than having to bathe out of a helmet at any rate. Four minutes later, Pete emerged from the shower dressed in navy blue sweatpants and a black t-shirt.

Feeling clean and coolly refreshed, Pete made his way downstairs to the dining room where Leena was setting up for breakfast. Today it was Belgian waffles, oatmeal, blackberries and toast. Orange juice, iced tea and coffee were the drinks of the day. Pete started with orange juice.

"Good morning, Leena," said Pete with a smile.

"Good morning to you, Pete," she replied. "Enjoy your run?"

"Yeah, actually, I did."

"Good, go grab a seat," said Leena. "Artie will do briefing over breakfast."

"Cool."

"Waffles!" shouted Claudia as she high-fived Leena. "You rock!"

Grabbing a Red Bull from the refrigerator, Claudia followed Pete into the dining room and grabbed a chair. Artie showed up a moment later with his bag and a couple of manila folders. He eyed the table for a few moments and then began to rearrange his setting to accommodate his files.

"Good morning, Artie," said Claudia and Pete, almost simultaneously.

"Pete, Claudia," said Artie as he eyed them both over his glasses for a moment. "Where is Myka?"

"Right behind you Artie."

Myka smiled at the group as she sat down, taking the empty seat beside her partner. She had hurriedly changed, throwing on a pair of faded blue jeans and a blue long-sleeved shirt. Her long hair, still damp from the shower, hung behind her head in a low ponytail.

She frowned at Pete as he eyeballed her, and scrunched her neck. "What?"

"Is…that my shirt...?" Asked Pete.

"No? I got this shirt from _my_ room, which is _where_ I last left it." Myka replied, emphasizing her words as she spoke. Pete only furrowed his brow, gazing at her studiously as though in silent contemplation. Her eyes landed on Claudia and Leena's faces; apparently they weren't buying her explanation either.

"OH-that IS Pete's!" said Claudia. "He wore that last time we went out to dinner, remember Leena?"

"I think so...," Leena replied slowly. "That is a man's shirt. You see the buttons?"

"I thought so," said Pete. "I have been looking for that shirt for a week now."

"You are both not helping, _seriously_, now we can just get to the briefing?" Snapped Myka.

"Thank you?" said Artie, raising his hands up in frustration. "Wardrobe issues aside, we have an artifact out in the world and a problem."

"AND a problem?" asked Pete.

"Yes," Artie replied. "It has come to the attention of the F.B.I. Most specifically the so-called X-Files Division."

"Who?" Asked Myka, furrowing her brow.

"The X-Files," said Artie. "Apparently some under-funded, basement-located section devoted to cases that aren't easily categorized by your standard D.C. suit. Paranormal, odd, cattle-probe kind of stuff."

"Cattle-probe kind of stuff?" Spoke Myka slowly, as though trying to wrap her head what Artie had just told them. "You mean like…little green men?" She cringed as she spoke the words, not quite able to believe it herself. Then again, working at the Warehouse one came to expect the unexpected, and on a daily basis no less.

"That's pretty crazy," said Pete as he served himself up some waffles from the main plate. "Aliens and ghosts."

"Sounds like that show on the SyFy channel," said Claudia. "That one reality show where they go to places and try and track down spirits and whatever."

"Weird," Pete said between bites. "So what are we doing about the F.B.I.?"

"Nothing yet," Artie responded, sitting back with a cup of coffee. "I'll keep an eye on them from here. That will be a bridge we will cross if we have to."

"Ok, so where are we going?" asked Claudia.

"Pete and Myka are going to start in Pittsburgh," Artie commented wryly. "At the scene of the last crime. The F.B.I. has come and gone, but keep your guard up while you investigate. I will back you up from here with Intel. Your flight leaves at 9:15, agents. Be careful."

After handing each agent a folder, Artie picked up his coffee and his bag and left for the Warehouse. Pete stabbed another waffle with his fork as Myka opened the folder she was given. She began to study it intently and Pete shook his head. He poured her a glass of orange juice and put a waffle on her plate. For him, breakfast was more important. The file he could study on the way to Pittsburgh.

Looking over at Claudia, he saw her rocking out to some song on her iPod. Shrugging his shoulders, he went about eating his breakfast.

Myka glanced up from her folder as the sounds of ceramic scrapping against wood could be heard. She looked down to spy that Pete had passed a small bowl of blackberries her way, and it was then she noticed her untouched waffle and orange juice.

Sighing in defeat she closed the folder. As much she hated to admit it, she did need her energy if she wanted to be in top form, and she was feeling spent from the jog, not to mention hungry. The file could wait, for now.

Pete smiled slightly as Myka took her offered blackberries and spooned them out onto the waffle, she'd never admit it, but she could be such a workaholic. At her worst, he had seen her often forgo breakfast completely, or simply scrap by with coffee and half a bagel with cream cheese.

Finished with breakfast, Myka rose from the table and grabbed her cup of coffee, tucking the file folder under her other arm.

"I'm going upstairs to get ready, if anyone needs me…," Biting her lip, Myka paused in mid-sentence, nervously tucking an errant strand of hair behind one ear. "I-I'll just be in my room, getting ready, and changed, right, changed. Enjoy your breakfast." Walking backwards, Myka quickly turned around heading in the direction of the stairs before she could face further embarrassment.

Claudia plucked a headphone out of one ear, watching the brunette as she exited before she looked back in Pete's direction.

"Dude, seriously what did you do now?"

"Got me," Pete said with a shrug.

**Washington, D.C.**

**F.B.I. Headquarters, Deputy Director Kersh's Office**

**8:54 AM**

The main door of Deputy Director Kersh's office opened suddenly and he poked his head out. He spied Agents Doggett and Reyes sitting in the waiting area. He walked out of his office fully and eyed them as he held the door to his office open.

"Agent Doggett, Agent Reyes," he started. "Come in."

Doggett folded up his newspaper as he looked at Kersh. Setting the paper aside, he stood up. Monica did the same and they walked into Kersh's office. The Deputy Director followed them, closing the door afterwards. Doggett heard the click of the door's lock being set as he and his partner stood in front of Kersh's desk.

Making his way around the desk, Kersh sat down in his chair and, after straightening a few files on his desktop, bade the two agents to have a seat as well.

"This meeting is late because I wanted to be absolutely sure that it was necessary," started Kersh. "Unfortunately, all of my sources confirmed it. Twice."

"What's this about, Director?" asked Doggett.

"There was a report this morning about a very, unusual and violent attack in Pittsburgh. The victim had her heart ripped out, and to make things even stranger, not a single drop of blood was found at the scene of the incident."

"Any clues as to the identity of the murderer?" asked Doggett.

"She's alive, actually. Barely. In fact she's in a hospital in Pittsburgh right now, awaiting a heart transplant. And to answer your question, no."

"Great," John replied.

"Indeed," Kersh replied slowly. "Unfortunately, this does fall into the X-File category."

Kersh's tone made it quite obvious that to even mention that name was distasteful to him. The X-Files had earned a dubious reputation throughout the F.B.I. Those that served in the division were looked upon as near-pariahs.

"I have assembled what we know into this file here," started Kersh. "Examine it. See what you can determine, but close this case as quickly and neatly as possible. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," John nodded.

"Completely," Replied Monica.

"Very well," said Kersh. "Dismissed."

Monica and John rose from their seats, promptly making their exit from Kersh's office.

"Sounds like he expects this case to be open and shut," Remarked Monica with a roll of her eyes, "Why am I not surprised?"

"Because it's a weird case," said John as they walked to the elevator. "You know he hates those."


	3. Chapter 3

**Grand Rapids Airspace**

**12:22 PM**

Pete nibbled quietly on a pretzel nugget as he perused the file before him on the foldout table. Nearby, Myka had her own copy of the file laid out before her as well; she was quiet most of the flight as though deep in thought, and Pete being Pete, decided it'd perhaps be best not to disturb her.

As per usual, little information was available on the artifact in question, and what little information was presented in the files revolved around the victims that had been affected by said artifact. And from what Pete had read so far, this particular artifact sounded downright grisly, almost as bad as that last case he and Myka had worked in New Orleans.

Closing the file folder, Pete sighed and rubbed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose shortly afterwards. He sighed dejectedly as he felt a light pressure on his right shoulder and hazarded a glance in his partner's direction, idly wondering what he might have done wrong now. "Was I crunching too…" He started only to halt in mid-sentence.

Myka was sound asleep, and her head was resting against his shoulder of all places. Again. Pete flashed back to the first time it had happened, nearly two weeks ago after the New Orleans case.

Both agents had just delivered their statements to Artie, he having congratulated them on a job well done, the case itself had exhausted them both in mind and body, and the very first thing that came to both their minds was sleep, recuperation.

A change of clothes later and they were both in their pajamas, ready to crash for the night; Myka was anyway, he couldn't sleep. She had wandered by his room to find him sitting atop his bed, Indian style, an array of DVD cases laid out before him like cards at a blackjack table.

Innocently enough she asked what he was doing, and upon learning she had never heard of Steven Seagal, Pete snapped to attention like he had been hit by a bolt of lightning. Seconds later he was off the bed and to his DVD collection where he swapped out the other movies for a handful of the action star's. Pete, not missing a beat, grasped Myka's arm and promptly marched her downstairs to the den.

Tasking Myka with setting up the movie, Pete fled to the kitchen for popcorn, a movie must he claimed. A scant few minutes later, Pete reappeared at his partner's side all but vaulting over the couch as he plopped down next to her on the couch cushions, bag of popcorn in hand. He was back up off the couch yet again, this time amidst claims that no light made for better ambience. Myka had only shook her head, and leaned back against the couch cushions, starting up the movie.

Pete was fairly certain she was bored, but nonetheless he made an effort to keep her interest, explaining bits and pieces of the movie and the actor's history as they watched Above the Law. He smiled proudly as he recalled drawing forth an occasional smile and chuckle from her, and every bit the trooper, Myka stuck it out, fighting back sleep as she watched the movie with him. She dozed on and off towards the end Above the Law, and had reawakened as Pete got up to put in Under Siege.

By now, Myka was sitting on the couch with her long legs tucked underneath her, her head nestled against the back of the couch cushions. Pete only smiled as he sat down next to her after swapping out DVDs, and cradled a pillow in his lap as he sat back against the couch cushions.

Hours later, the movie had ended, and Pete turned his head to spy that Myka had fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder, her body nestled next to his like a cat. Maybe it was the mission that had done them both in, or maybe it was because it was so late at night, but for whatever unknown reason, he let himself fall into shutdown mode and drifted off, Myka's presence one of comfort.

Pete awoke early the next morning, and found his partner still out like a light, her head now resting on his chest. Mentally he berated himself for falling asleep on the couch, with his partner practically in his arms no less, how he'd ever explain this he'd never know.

As quietly and as quickly as possible, Pete slipped off the couch, gently positioning his pillow under her head, and pulled a quilt over her form, and without thinking, gently brushed back a strand of hair from her eyes as she nuzzled into the pillow. Now ready to dropkick himself in the head, Pete reached for his sneakers and quickly crept out the door for his morning jog.

Thankfully neither had spoken of the incident, and for once Pete was grateful. Though right now he was at a loss as to how to deal with this current predicament, yet again.

_"How do I get myself into hazardous situations like this?"_ thought Pete to himself, now wishing he was back in New Orleans fighting zombies.

Myka stirred next to him, and Pete glanced in the direction of the lavatory, wondering if he could perhaps still manage a fast escape.

_"Oh crap."_

"Pete?" He heard a sleepy voice speak up next to him, and he glanced in his partner's direction as she sleepily sat up, rubbing her eyes, yawning tiredly. "What time is it?"

"Um," he started as he checked his watch. "1315 hours."

"Nearly half the flight…?" She commented more to herself than to her partner as she closed up the file folder. Sleepily, Myka fought back a yawn covering her mouth as she did.

"You hungry or anything?" Pete asked, trying to keep her from thinking about her growing sleeping habit. "Thirsty? Magazine?"

"Huh? I'm okay, thanks." She replied, offering him a slight smile. "Are your ears bothering you? Did you want some gum or anything, its sugar free but…" She asked, eying him curiously.

"No, I guess I am just a little tired," Pete replied. "Punchy."

"Oh, okay." Replied Myka, she sensed something was amiss, but what she couldn't quite ascertain. Deciding not to press the issue, Myka leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes.

Securing the file folder, Pete leaned back in his chair and got comfortable. He was going to try and catch a few winks himself. He made sure to lean away from Myka in case he put his head against her shoulder in his sleep. He was sure that he would regret that.

Before falling off to sleep, Pete's last thoughts were to wonder about why Myka had his shirt.

Myka shifted in her seat, her eyes briefly falling on her partner as she made herself comfortable, her eyes fluttered open after drifting shut briefly, and she held a hand to her face, sighing. Was he wondering now why she had his shirt in her possession? Was that the source of his unease?

She had come into the shirt's possession unintentionally, the night they had come back from going out to dinner. She spied the shirt hanging on a hook in the bathroom after she showered, Pete having used the bathroom before her, he no doubt left it there with the intention of coming back to retrieve it later.

Unconsciously, Myka let her hands drift to the collar of the soft material, and very gently she lifted it up off the hook. Myka took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the material, cookies and aftershave, the scent drawing a smile to her face. It was strangely comforting to her senses, and she couldn't explain why exactly but the next thing she knew was cradling the shirt in her arms the way a child would a cherished toy, silent tears streaming down her face.

Earlier in the night during their dinner outing, Pete had coaxed Myka into dancing with him, oddly enough the music was jazz, and Pete had felt like celebrating in spite of earlier events. The dance was anything but intimate, something fun and lighthearted. Pete called it an excuse to let the weight off their shoulders from the case, and Myka reluctantly agreed.

Pete could be childish and annoying, but there was no denying he was an exceptional partner, and for the number of times he teased and taunted her, he'd always attempt to coax a smile out of her later. It was all the more reason she feared losing him, like she had lost Sam. And she knew if she lost Pete…

Silently, Myka wiped away her tears as she dressed for bed and quietly crept out of the bathroom, Pete's shirt in her arms. And just as quietly she slipped inside her room, curling up under the blankets with his shirt clutched tightly in her arms; sleep quickly overtook her, his shirt offering her a strange sense of comfort.

The shirt now sat tucked away in her luggage, neatly pressed and ironed, with the full intention of it being returned to its rightful owner. In a way, Myka was glad she had only wandered downstairs accidentally dressed in the shirt, she could only imagine her partner's reaction if he found it she was using it as a sleep aid.

Shifting positions, Myka stared out the window, lost in silent contemplation.

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**Abandoned Jones & Laughlin Steel mill**

**2:00 PM**

John Doggett walked through the dark warehouse of an abandoned steel mill with his partner Monica Reyes. Their flashlights cutting through the gloom like a lighthouse beacon. The mill had long been abandoned due to the economy and the toxic landscape. The Pittsburgh Urban Redevelopment Authority had purchased it a few months ago and had done some minor prep work to turn the land around. Beyond that, however, there had been no other activity save for the murder.

The intended victim of the crime was one Helene Rita Stillsen. Twenty-six years old. Single. Family dead except for an older brother, George, who lived in California. Worked as a court clerk. Did volunteer work at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center's children's hospital in the Lawrenceville section of the city.

She had a few friends. They would start interviewing them after they examined the crime scene. The file Kersh had assembled had the Pittsburgh police department's crime scene investigation photos and notes but it never hurt to take a look for yourself.

"Not a great place to die," said Monica quietly.

"Nope," said Doggett.

"Why do these guys always pick the old abandoned buildings?" Mused Monica aloud.

"Because it's secluded I guess," said John. "Who knows why these sickos do what they do where they do it."

"This job never gets old does it?" Monica remarked.

"There's the scene," said John, shining his light on an area sectioned off with the yellow and black tape they had seen so often.

Holding the tape up, John let Monica proceed first and then he followed. A chalk outline was drawn on the floor, but there was little else to tell a person that this was the scene of a murder. No blood was found. No tool marks or bullet holes. Just a body of a woman who was found by wandering security guard on the property. Very lucky indeed.

"I don't think we're going to get much out of this," said John. "But let's check it out."

"Looks clean, too clean." Commented Monica as she shined her flashlight around the crime scene.

"What do you suppose happened here John?" she asked.

"Well, it's isolated," said Doggett as he looked around. "Seems a little off the beaten path to bring someone for a murder though. No reported vehicle tracks on the grounds, so they would have had to walk here."

"So what we are dealing with is a completely random attack, and so far even less motive." Monica replied, sighing.

"Clearly we have our work cut out for us."

After half an hour examining the scene physically and through the photos from the file, the two agents left the mill and headed back for their car.

"Thoughts?"

"We'll go follow up with the local PD," said Doggett. "See if we can get any more information."

"Then we can go interview her friends and co-workers."

"Sounds good," said Doggett. "Let's go."

Monica nodded, and without another word, the pair got into their car and drove off.


	4. Chapter 4

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**2:30 PM**

The ride into town was quiet, neither agent spoke a word to each other, an awkward silence between them. Myka sat behind the wheel, Pete thumbing through the file beside her in the passenger seat, his snappy shades hid his eyes, but she could have sworn every now and again he was looking in her direction.

Eventually he snapped the folder shut, and for once sat quietly next to her, no humming of tunes, no tapping his fingers along to a soundless beat. Quiet.

So why did it only serve to set her on edge?

Myka turned sharply into their hotel's parking lot, just as he made a move to speak, and just as quickly, Myka made her exit from their rental car. Moving around back, she retrieved her bag as Pete only shrugged and exited from the rental car and materialized at her side to retrieve his own bag moments later. Yet again she could feel his eyes on her, almost studious in their nature. If Pete kept up this latest habit it was going to drive her nuts.

Pete walked up to the hotel manager's window and started talking with him while Myka waited by the car. The manager went to check on available rooms and Pete turned around and looked at Myka. She was ill at ease with him for some reason. Maybe she recalled using his shoulder as a headrest? Pete sure hoped not, otherwise there would be some dire consequences.

The manager returned holding one key in his hand. "Sorry sport, only one room left."

"Seriously?" asked Pete.

"Yup," said the manager. "There's some kind of realtor convention in town. Been taking up a lot of the hotels around here. Anyway, the room has one bed and a kitchen."

"Terrific," muttered Pete as he paid for the room.

He walked back to the car and saw Myka look up at him, her neck scrunching. She was definitely uneasy with him. He tossed the room key to her and set his duffel bag on the trunk of their car. He sighed slightly and pinched the bridge of his nose, but did not remove his shades.

"One room left," he started. "One bed, but it has a kitchen and bathroom. Give me the car keys, please."

Myka chewed her lip as she looked at her partner. Great now her bad mood was likely rubbing off on him and it was only serving to make her feel even more miserable.

"And what? Leave me stranded here? Don't be silly, we can split the room, it wouldn't be the first time." She started, conveying what she hoped he was reading as an attempt to make peace.

"No, I am going to sleep in the car."

"What?"

"I am sleeping in the car," said Pete. "It'll be...easier."

"So…? Your point being exactly…?" She asked, raising a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. For the briefest inkling of a moment, she could have sworn he was turning red, and Pete ducked his head, quietly clearing his throat. Myka eyed her partner curiously, continuously baffled by his seemingly odd behavior.

"Pete?" Spoke Myka softly.

Pete looked away and then held his hand out, gesturing for the car keys. Myka continued to stare at him with a curious expression. Pete was trying to avoid an awkward situation and instead, found that they both were constructing a rather intricate situation together. It was amazing how well they worked together, even at these moments. Pete coughed slightly and moved to look at Myka and she back at him.

"I'm sure they have a foldout…" The two started in unison, laughing nervously afterwards, more so at the absurdity of the situation. Myka bowed her head slightly; certain she was now turning red herself.

"You were saying?" said Pete quietly, looking away towards the road for a second.

Smiling shyly, Myka spoke up after several moments, "You first."

"No, please," said Pete. "Go ahead."

Myka looked down and away from him, and Pete rubbed the back of his head. This was getting them nowhere. It would almost be hysterically funny if it were not for the fact that he and Myka were the main players in this tragic comedy. He hoped that the entire case and perhaps beyond would not be like this.

"You can't sleep in the car! Do you have any idea how unprofessional that would look?" Started Myka, before she continued, her tone softening, "Look if you want, I'll take the couch, I can rough it."

"I don't mind sleeping in the car," said Pete.

"Quit it with the tough guy routine already soldier."

"Marine."

"Whatever."

"No, there's a difference."

"There's a difference?" Myka asked folding her arms across her chest. "Is maturity included?" She jibed.

"Give me the car keys, Myka," said Pete, his tone indicating his rapid loss of patience.

Myka held out the keys to Pete, immediately snapping her hand back afterwards. "I'll give you the car keys, after you agree _not_ to sleep in the car." 

"And you talk to me about maturity?" said Pete. "Fine, keep the damn keys."

Picking up his duffel bag, Pete began walking away from Myka. He had seen another hotel on the map earlier. It was only a five mile hike down the road from here. He slipped his bag onto his back with the adjustable straps and started jogging down the road, chanting cadence all the way.

Dumbfounded, Myka watched her partner jog off, unable to believe what he had just suggested. Fine, he wanted the damned car keys, she'd let him have them. Pulling back her arm as far as she could, Myka threw the car keys at him, clipping Pete in the shoulder.

"Fine, you want the car keys, take the damned car keys! If you need me, I'll be up in the room!" Turning on her heel, Myka grabbed her bag and stalked off in the direction of the hotel's main lobby. The desk clerk smiled at her and Myka only glared daggers back at him, causing him to step backwards in shock, cowering behind the phone receiver he held in his hand.

Pete stopped to pick up the keys and watched as Myka stormed off into the hotel. He looked down the road and then back at the car and then to the keys in his hand. Shrugging, he jogged back to the car. Getting in, he started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot and down the road towards the other hotel.

Myka stepped inside her room, and let the bag drop to the floor as she closed the door behind her. Groaning, Myka held both hands to her face, wondering if all this was over the fact that she took Pete's shirt, no, that couldn't be it, could it? Just what got into Pete as of late?

Deciding to focus on something else for the time being, Myka unpacked her belongings, neatly arranging the items in the dresser drawer. The other drawer she left vacant, should Pete choose to come to his senses and return. She sighed in exasperation as she pulled out his blue dress shirt, and placed it into the empty drawer, her hands lingering on the material as she did.

Closing the dresser drawer at long last, Myka stood up; deciding to go over the file Artie had given her again. For now, she'd bury herself in the case, in hopes she could let herself be absorbed into the material. In another hour she'd go downstairs to meet with Pete, and head out to see their first victim.

Pete pulled into the other parking lot of the other hotel. Getting out, he went inside and up to the front desk.

"Sorry, we just booked our last room ten minutes ago."

Nodding, Pete turned around and left, returning to the car. Pulling out of the parking lot, Pete drove around until he found a grocery store and parked in the lot there under a small tree.

This case was going to be a rough one. This thing with Myka falling asleep on him and her wearing his shirt was just too weird. Something was going on, but he did not know what. It would have to be figured out eventually, but not now. This case had to be wrapped up first and quickly.

Pete studied the file for a few minutes and then closed it and secured it. Leaning back, he slipped on his shades and closed his eyes. Maybe a little sleep would help him clear his head.


	5. Chapter 5

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**Budget Hotel**

**3:35 PM**

One hour later, Myka exited from her room and wandered back downstairs to the hotel's main lobby. The desk clerk looked up at her briefly from his work, before he ducked down behind his computer monitor. Myka stepped outside the hotel, the lobby doors opening with a whoosh as she made her exit. She glanced around the parking lot and sighed, finding no sight of her and Pete's rental car. He didn't. He wouldn't. Would he?

Sighing, Myka sat down on a bench and slid open her cell phone, hitting the speed dial for her partner. He hadn't answered her earlier call and she was willing to bet he was either snoozing in the car or he was still mad at her. For once Myka hoped it was the former. Moments later she was met with his cheery voice, albeit in the form of voicemail. Sighing, Myka snapped the phone shut and she gazed up at the graying skies, the slightest sliver of sunlight peeked through the clouds seeming to taunt her as a light rain began to fall.

Pete came back to the car with two bottles of cold mocha coffee and a white, wax paper lined bag of warm cookies straight from the in-store bakery. His mood had improved considerably after just one cookie. The second put him back in fighting form. He would save the third for Myka.

After having time to think over things, he had come to a realization. During their briefing Myka had been very embarrassed and stressed over the shirt issue. Ever since the mission to New Orleans, Myka had been a little on edge. A little closer to him physically, if only on a subconscious level. That is, to say in her sleep. It was all a little odd. Maybe she was feeling some past issues resurfacing as they often do.

Checking his phone, he found that he had a missed call from Myka. After securing the cookie he saved for her and the two bottles of cold coffee Pete opened his phone and called her back. The phone rang five times and then she picked up, her tone even, but somber.

"Hello."

"Hey Myka," started Pete. "On my way back to you. Be there in five."

"Ok."

Pete hung up the phone and slipped it back into its holster on the left side of his belt. True to his word, he was there within the stated five minutes. Her expression was rather sad and somewhat listless. She had really taken a turn from the manic scrunchy-necked Myka to an almost Goth-depression Myka. Not a good sign. He pulled up to where she sat on the bench and rolled down the window.

"Hey pretty lady," he started with a grin. "Going my way?"

Myka quietly got into the passenger side of the rental car, and she looked up as Pete passed a warm, white paper bag into her hands, and she glanced in his direction briefly before opening it. She smiled slightly in spite of herself; inside the bag was a white chocolate chip macadamia nut cookie, and several crumbs, likely the remnants of its former companions.

Rarely if ever did she consume sugary confectionaries, save for if she was under stress, and either he was getting very adept at reading her, or this was Pete's version of a peace offering.

"Got you a cold coffee as well," said Pete. "Decaf."

Pete pulled out of the parking lot of the hotel and onto the main road. They drove along for a few moments in silence as Myka opened her coffee.

"We cool?" asked Pete as they drove along.

"You promise not to sleep in the car?" She asked, casting a glance back in his direction.

"I guess."

Myka smiled, and reached inside the bag retrieving the offered treat. Lifting the cookie to her mouth to take a bite, Myka paused and broke it in half, offering half to Pete.

"I had the other two," said Pete, shaking his head.

"Pete…" Myka held out her hand, still willing to offer up her half of cookie, and Pete sighed in defeat, reaching across the armrest to take the cookie from her hand. How could he say no to that smile? Or a cookie for that matter? Pete smiled shyly as their hands brushed lightly, unable to not notice how warm her skin felt against his fingertips. Myka blushed, biting the inside of her lip and pulled her hand away as he took his half of cookie and she bit into her half of remaining cookie.

Pete ate the other half of the cookie and took a sip of his coffee. "You ready for some interviews?"

Myka nodded, "Yeah I'm ready to go, and Pete, thanks for the cookie." She replied sending a shy smile his way.

"No problemo," said Pete in an Arnold Schwarzenegger voice as he smiled.

The two made their way to the hospital where the victim was being treated. Attended to? Pete was not really sure how they were keeping her alive if she had no heart. The whole thing was odd, but no less so than many of the other things he had seen.

Then there was the fact that he disliked hospitals.

Myka was looking out the window of the passenger side. They had not spoken in four and half minutes. Whatever was going on between them was still going on. Reaching out, Pete turned on the radio to a classic rock station. The Scorpions were playing now, _Rock You like a Hurricane_. Pete softly began to tap on the wheel to the rhythm.

The radio's volume and the sound of the music alone drew Myka out of her reverie, back to reality. Myka threw a small, nervous smile in Pete's direction as she leaned back in her seat, sipping on her cold coffee; for once grateful it was decaf, the last thing she needed right now was caffeine. Casting a glance in Pete's direction, she smiled as she spied him tapping his fingers along to the music. At least he seemed back to his old self, hopefully.

"So any theories on what we're dealing with, any vibes?" She asked.

"Nope," said Pete. "I'm just cruising for the moment. Just read Artie's file and that's it. We'll see what happens after we visit the victim."

"Agreed, as of right now, I don't know what to make of all this either." Myka replied.

"You hungry or anything?" asked Pete.

"Actually, that cookie was the only thing I had in awhile, since the flight." She answered sheepishly.

"Nothing else?"

"What? Blame the airlines, not me! You're lucky they throw a bag of peanuts at you!"

"I had some stuff."

"You didn't offer me anything," She replied, furrowing her brow.

"You...fell asleep."

"Oh, right." She blushed, and Pete suddenly wondered if she was now realizing she had inadvertently used his shoulder as a pillow. Another tune was playing now on the radio by the group called Whitesnake, _The Deeper the Love_. Fumbling with the tuner, Pete lowered the volume before casting a glance in Myka's direction, and quietly spoke up.

"So, you want to grab a bite later?"

"Sure, after the interview."

"Cool."

The two drove the rest of the way in relative quiet. They arrived at the hospital and Pete parked in the lot designated for visitors. They exited the car and made their way into the main lobby. It was crowded inside and fairly loud. Wheelchairs, carts and people coming and going. Very carefully Pete and Myka made their way to the main desk.

Once they got the receptionist's attention, an attractive auburn haired woman, Pete pulled out his credentials. "Pete Lattimer and Myka Bering, Special Agents with the Secret Service. What room is Helene Stillsen in?"

"Room 402...," She responded, shooting the agents a curious look. "What is the nature of the visit?"

"We're here to interview the victim." Started Myka.

"That'll be hard since she is comatose," Said the receptionist.

"Comatose?" Asked Myka, beginning to wonder just how serious of a case they were dealing with here; was it an effect of the artifact?

"Yes?" Said the receptionist, mimicking Myka's tone.

"Medically induced, or was she like this when she was brought in?"

"Brought in."

"Right, excuse us, please." Myka stepped away from the counter grabbing Pete's arm as she did leading him away, "I smell fudge." She whispered harshly.

"Well, we are near the gift sho...oh," Said Pete quietly.

"Any vibes?" She asked, fighting back the urge to roll her eyes.

"Just that we need to see the victim," Said Pete. "And will you stop asking me about my vibes? This isn't the dollar menu and you're starting to creep me out."

Myka's neck scrunched slightly at Pete's expression and she turned around, walking back to the receptionist's desk, Pete in tow. "We would like to see the victim, and if possible obtain a copy of her medical report." She asked politely.

"Why do you need that?" She asked.

"For our investigation." Replied Myka.

"Why, is that going to be a problem?"

"Medical files are confidential," Said the receptionist.

"Right, can we still see the victim?"

"I'll have to call the doctor...," The receptionist said, picking up the phone.

Myka sighed, unable to believe the runaround this receptionist was giving them both, but then again, protocol was protocol.

Pete smiled at the receptionist and leaned over the desk. "How about you have the doctor meet us in her room? We need to interview him as well. The poor woman was attacked and we are here to help find out why. Any information your staff has would be valuable to us. You said room 402?"

"Y-yes...," Said the receptionist. "Dr. Julien will be up directly."

"Thanks," Said Pete shooting her a wink.

"Come on Myka."

Myka cast a glance in the receptionist's direction, eyes widening at the drastic change in the woman's expression, she swore she heard a soft sigh, and that she was now blushing noticeably, her eyes following Pete's form. Shaking her head, Myka turned away and trailed after her partner.

"I cannot believe you!" She whispered harshly.

"What?"

"You just flirted your way into getting us to see the victim!"

"I charmed her a little," said Pete. "Do I sense a little envy?"

"Me jealous? Don't be ridiculous!" She scoffed at his remark.

"Hey, don't hate on my skills."

"Maybe if you hurry back later you can get her number." She taunted.

"Might be an idea," said Pete with a slight smile.

"Fine!"

Pete watched as Myka stormed off to the elevator and jammed the button. She stood there at the door, her arms folded; neck scrunched and had a glare that could possibly melt the steel doors ahead of her. With a low ding sound and a whoosh, the elevator arrived and the doors opened. Myka stormed inside and Pete was not enjoying the prospect of sharing an elevator with her. Still, everyone had to do things they did not want to do.

Walking into the elevator car, Pete stood beside Myka and pushed the button for the fourth floor. Pete shot a glance over to Myka, but she held her glare. Pete released a small sigh as the doors of the elevator closed and the car moved upward to their destination.

The elevator ride was smooth but very slow, at least to Pete. Myka did not budge again until the doors opened and then she sprung forth like a wild animal. Two nurses had to dodge out of her way. Pete followed after her wondering what exactly was bothering her about what he did. He just laid on a little charm, nothing serious. She was acting very strange, even for Myka.

Pete caught up to his partner as she came across room 402. He opened the door for her, offering her a smile, but she just continued to glare at him. Shaking his head, Pete followed her into the room. The doctor had not yet arrived and Pete was glad. Maybe it would give Myka a few minutes to cool down. Pete went to the foot of the bed and picked up Helene's chart.

"Doesn't look like she's done anything more than when she was brought in," said Pete as he flipped through the pages.

"Shocking isn't it? Especially considering the poor woman is in a coma." She replied dryly.

"Myka...," said Pete, his tone taking on a tired edge.

"Oh I'm sorry, was that too unprofessional of me?" She asked sweetly.

"Seriously?" said Pete, exasperated. "We need to talk about this."

Myka raised her eyes skyward, and shook her head, "There's nothing to discuss…"

The doctor entered the room and looked at the two agents. He had a clipboard and a file tucked under his arm and a pen behind his ear.

"I am Doctor Julien," he started. "You are the two Secret Service agents?"

"That's us said Pete, showing his credentials. "Special Agents Lattimer and Bering."

"Doctor Julien," Smiled Myka as she approached the man and held out her hand in greeting. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice."

"Not a problem ma'am, now how can I help you both?"

Myka spoke, just as Pete attempted to get a word in, behind her she could have sworn he had just rolled his eyes in irritation, and she had to fight back the urge to grin. The doctor spoke with a slightly noticeable drawl, carrying a soft lilt in his tone. If Myka had to guess she was willing to wager he was not a local.

Pete stood back with a very slight smile on his face. Myka was playing up to the doctor now. Revenge, perhaps, for what he did with the receptionist. Her behavior was kind of odd, even for Warehouse standards.

"We're here about the patient, from what we understand she was attacked?" Myka asked.

The doctor nodded, "That is correct, she's very lucky to be alive, in fact it is a miracle that she even is alive."

"How so?"

"She has no heart, it is almost as though someone literally removed it from her body, for all reasons medically and clinically she should be dead, but somehow her body is still functioning even without the aid of her heart. Theoretically speaking, it as almost as though her body set itself to standby when her heart was removed."

"That's odd," said Pete. "How are you treating her?"

"Right now, she is on a waiting list for an emergency heart transplant. Newspapers and medical journalists have been ringing our phones all day, wanting answers we can't provide. All I can say for certain is she is alive, though how I cannot."

"Did she ever say anything?" asked Pete. "In the ambulance, any other time?"

"Some sort of nonsense...," said Doctor Julien. "Unintelligible. Still, I wrote it down. Hold on."

The doctor searched through his pockets until he found a small, leather-bound notepad. He flipped open the cover and sorted through the pages inside. Apparently he kept quite a few notes as the pages seemed to fly by. Myka, not a fan of disorganization, started to scrunch her neck. Pete put his hand on her shoulder.

Myka glanced up briefly as Pete's hand made contact with her shoulder, her gaze locked with his for a fleeting instance, just long enough for him to see her ice-cold glare she had been wearing falter, before she turned away. Pete gave her shoulder a light squeeze of reassurance as he stood next to her, waiting for the doctor to show them both his notes.

"Here we go," said Julien. "Ok, as near as I could make it out, she said bakaib. Well, no, well...she paused between parts of it. Ba ka ib? Maybe? I was not sure."

Pete wrote down what was said into his own notepad, which was organized. Closing the book, Pete put it and his pen away inside of his jacket.

"If that's all?" said Doctor Julien. "I have rounds to complete."

"Yeah, that's it," said Pete.

"Fine," said Julien and he turned to leave, opening the door.

"Oh, one more thing," started Pete. "Did she have any wounds or markings on her when she came in?"

Julien stopped and turned, looking back at the agents. "That was the strange thing. She didn't."

Pete nodded and Julien went out of the room and back to work. Pete looked at Myka and she back at him. A new little twist to their tale.


	6. Chapter 6

"I'm thinking call Artie and then lunch?" said Pete.

"Agreed, the sooner we fill him in on what we know, the sooner he can help us figure out what we're dealing with." Nodded Myka, her expression and demeanor all business.

Standing next to Myka, Pete reached inside his inner jacket pocket and took out the Farnsworth, promptly flipping the device open. After several moments they were greeted by a static filled screen, followed by what sounded like loud music blaring in the background accompanied by clattering and shuffling noises. The pair exchanged baffled glances, before seconds later the music ceased and they were greeted by Claudia.

"Hey guys, what's up?"

"Claudia, where is Artie?" Spoke Pete first.

"He's out in the Warehouse, he asked me to watch the office before running out muttering something about Artifact Disturbances," She stated with a shudder and roll of her eyes. "Anyway what's up?"

"We found out some new information on the victim, we were hoping Artie could provide us with some more info," Started Pete, Myka nodded leaning in closer, "Yeah, do you have pen and paper handy, the sooner we get this to Artie the better."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Chill! I got it!" Claudia replied holding up a hand, "Ok, so whadya got?"

"Ba ka ib." Spoke Pete slowly, Claudia frowned.

"Speak English to me man."

"No, that's what the victim was muttering on her way to the hospital in the ambulance," Replied Pete, just as perplexed as Claudia was.

Myka nodded, before piping up, "Yeah and get this, she had her heart removed, but no visible signs of injury, no cuts, no gashes, no bruises, nothing, you're getting all this I hope Claudia?"

The teen nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I got it all, and if I might add, _creepy_! Sounds like this thing would be right at home in the Dark Vault, whatever _it _is. I'll be sure to tell Artie all the juicy details, stay cool!" With that, Claudia logged off, leaving Pete and Myka to themselves.

Myka looked up as Pete put the Farnsworth back in his inner jacket pocket, but not before noticing he had been resting his hand on her shoulder again. Softly clearing his throat, Pete let his hand fall away from Myka's shoulder as casually as possible, and he offered her a sheepish smile.

"So, lunch?"

"Sure, hopefully by then we'll get some answers from Artie."

Pete opened the door to the room, making a slight gesture with his hand, and Myka exited first, before Pete followed after her.

Almost immediately he could sense that she was still slightly on edge, though her mood had now seemed to have cooled considerably, something was bugging her, but whether it was related to the case or the incident with his shirt this morning, he had no clue.

"So, anything in particular you have a hankering for?" Pete asked as he jogged alongside her in reverse, tossing her a gentle smile as he did. He hated seeing her down in the dumps, and though his antics often got him a shake of the head, it beat having it out with her during another verbal sparring match.

Myka shot him a sidelong glance, her brow furrowing in a mixture of confusion and annoyance before she realized he was asking her about lunch. "What? Oh right, lunch," She smiled embarrassedly before adding, "I kind of have a taste for Chinese food, you?"

"Sure," said Pete. "I feel like something spicy. Maybe some General Tso's. That and a root beer would be great about now."

Myka only smiled, at least for once they had agreed on something.

Casually Pete made the way through the halls towards an alternate exit. He wished to avoid revisiting any issues with the receptionist. He had not been flirting with her really. He was just trying to make their job easier. Still, Myka seemed upset by it so he figured on keeping things cool and maybe having a decent lunch with his partner.

They exited the hospital and found their rental car a few minutes later. This car ride was less awkward than some, but mostly because they simply discussed the hospital visit. A woman who had her heart removed with no visible scars or incisions or even a bruise. Doctor Julien seemed to have a strange reaction to that. He was rather...unsurprised. Pete considered on that for a few moments.

As luck would have it, there was a Chinese food place in a shopping center a few miles away. It was a takeout joint but it had a few tables. Despite the relatively small size of the place, it was wonderfully decorated. Bonsai trees, a small indoor fountain and some strategically placed bamboo helped add to the ambience. Pete and Myka waited in a short line to place and order for their food. When they were up, Pete ordered first as Myka was still deciding.

"What would you like?" asked the man behind the counter.

"A large order of the General Tso's, two egg rolls and a large root beer," started Pete. "Very light on the ice."

The man punched some keys on the register. "And for your wife?"

Pete was taken off guard by the remark. "She's not..."

"…his wife." Myka's expression blanched, realizing just how her wording came out sounding.

"I-I…mean, not yet anyway, we're just engaged." She replied, grasping her shocked partner's hand in hers. Inwardly, Myka bit back a string of curses, her previous wording made it sound as though they were two individuals caught up in an affair. But given the clerk's circumstances they were married she decided to roll with it…to a degree; she figured it could prove a decent cover.

"Yeah...," said Pete.

"One large order of Singapore Noodles, extra spicy, and I'll have a large iced green tea to drink."

"To go," said Pete. "Please."

The clerk rang up their order and then took their receipt and handed it to the head cook. The clerk then handed them each a cup and pointed out the drink dispensers. Pete filled up his cup full of root beer, no ice. Then he downed the entire cup without taking a breath and refilled it.

_"Engaged?"_ he thought to himself. _"Where did she get that one?"_

Myka walked over to the drink dispensers and promptly filled her cup half full with ice, before then proceeding to fill it with iced green tea. Popping a lid on the top of the cup, Myka grabbed a straw, and stabbed it through the opening. She looked up as she heard Pete approach, and she casually threw him a wink before she stepped off to the side to wait on their order.

After finishing his second cup, Pete refilled the drink again. His mind was still racing when the clerk put their order up on the counter. Each item was boxed individually and then all placed into a large brown paper bag. He smiled as the two agents came up to collect their order.

"Good luck with the wedding," he said.

Myka raised her cup in salute, and smiled at the clerk.

"T-Thanks," said Pete as he headed for the door.

The two agents made their way back out to their car, Pete putting the order of food between them. He started the car and rolled down his window to get some air. The carry-out place had been a little humid from the steam. Was that why he was sweating? Was it?

"I guess...we should go to the hotel now, huh?" said Pete. "Eat, recharge, and see if Artie has anything for us?"

"Sure, sounds like a plan to me, honey." She teased.

"Okay, here we go," said Pete as he began to pull out of the lot.

_Love is a Battlefield_ by Pat Benatar began playing on the radio and Pete changed the station to the news.

Myka raised an eyebrow at Pete's noticeable change in demeanor, was he…flustered? Shaking her head, Myka took another sip of her iced green tea; it was pretty tasty, even if sans sugar. Sensing he was glancing in her direction, Myka piped up finally, "What? Can't hurt to have a cover right?"

"Quick thinking," said Pete quietly. "A little off the cuff though."

Arriving at the hotel, Pete entered the lot and parked the car. Grabbing their bag of food, he exited the vehicle and headed for the room. Myka walked with him and unlocked the door when they arrived. Pete followed her inside and set down the food on a chair near the door. He then divested his suit jacket and took off his tie, unbuttoning his collar.

The Farnsworth had not buzzed, so Pete figured Artie was either still out dealing with rampant artifact weirdness or he was researching. Either way, that left him time to eat. Once he was squared away, Pete reached for the bag of food only to find Myka already sorting it out. She was still smiling.

"I took pictures of Helene's medical chart with my phone," said Pete as he headed for the door. "I'm going to send them to Claudia. I'll be right back."

"Ok, did you want me to put the air on?" She asked, reaching behind her head to pull loose her ponytail. Her own jacket lay resting over the armrest of the couch nearby, and she rolled the sleeves of her blouse up to her elbow. Pete cast a glance briefly in her direction, near regretting it immediately, all the while wondering why in the world she had decided to change her hair, wearing her now currently straightened locks down only brought out her eyes, even Alice had nothing on this current look.

"Pete?" She asked again worriedly, her voice drawing him out of his reverie, "Air?"

"Sure...," said Pete as he made his exit.

Myka reddened visibly and smiled embarrassedly, watching as her partner rather clumsily made his escape. The moment the door closed behind him, Pete fell back against the wall, exhaling loudly as he closed his eyes, one hand rising to palm his face. What in the world got into him? Or his partner for that matter?

Pete opened the Farnsworth and called the Warehouse. After a few seconds, Claudia again answered.

"Hey Claudia," started Pete. "Artie back yet?"

"No, he's still out in the Warehouse, he's positive the whole system has gone gonzo." Claudia's brow furrowed as she took in Pete's expression, "Dude, are you alright? You look like you just ran in a marathon event or something, are they having a heat wave in Pittsburgh?" She asked.

"I just got back from a run..."

"Go get yourself a Gatorade bro, can't have you fainting on the job now!"

"I need to send you some picture files."

"Dude, you could have just texted them to me! Oh whatever, the master computer whiz will save ya." With Claudia's aid and guidance, Pete sent her over the requested files, all the while thanking the higher powers above that was she such an egg head.

"We cool?"

"Got em! Alright, I'll tell Artie to get back to you guys ASAP. Peace out!"

Pete closed the Farnsworth and placed it back inside his pants pocket. Taking a little walk around outside, Pete soaked up the cool air. Once he felt sufficiently back together, he returned to the room.

Myka looked up as Pete reentered the room, and she smiled shyly, before speaking up, "Hey, any word back yet from Artie?"

"He's still out in the Warehouse."

"Oh, well maybe after we eat, he'll have something. Hope Claudia isn't giving him a hard time over there, or maybe Mrs. Frederic paid one of her surprise visits."

"Yeah, it sounds like he has enough trouble."

Myka had taken the liberty of getting out plates for their food, as well as eating utensils; she herself opted to use chopsticks, though she wasn't sure if Pete knew how to use them. Sitting down at the table, Myka scooped out a helping of Singapore Noodles onto her plate before she offered the box to Pete.

"Here, want to try some? It's got ginger and curry in it, I don't normally like the spicy stuff but it's delicious."

"I'm good."

"C'mon soldier, it's not _that_ spicy, trust me, you'll love it." She smiled at him slightly in encouragement, certain her features were reddening from the way he was studying her, almost intently.

"Marine," said Pete softly. "We can share."

Pete doled out some of his General Tso's and took some of the offered Singapore Noodles. He ate in silence, every so often shooting a covert glance at Myka. She had green eyes. He had never really noticed them before. He took a sip of his root beer and then set it on the table, digging back into his food.


	7. Chapter 7

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**Private Residence of Veronica O'Donel**

**4:54 PM**

John Doggett stopped the car outside the residence of Veronica O'Donel. This was the first of the associates listed for Helene Stillsen. Looking over, he saw that Monica was looking over the file again. Taking the key out of the ignition, he placed it in his jacket pocket.

"You ready Monica?" he asked.

"I've got a really funny feeling about all this John…," She started slowly.

"Don't go getting all weird on me, Monica," said Doggett.

Monica frowned, "Are you doubting my instincts?" Monica spoke again after a beat, "You're doubting my instincts."

"No, I don't doubt your instincts," John said. "I am just hoping that this isn't one of those strange cases. I hate the weird ones."

"In case you haven't noticed, in our case, weird is part of the job." She replied.

"Alright, c'mon," said John. "Let's go talk to Ms. O'Donel."

The two agents walked up to the apartment complex, where they announced their presence and were promptly buzzed in by Ms. O'Donel after ringing the bell. Marching up the stairs and to the appropriate door number, John knocked on the door lightly, and the pair was greeted by a young, raven-haired woman.

"Yes?"

"This is Agent Reyes, I'm Agent Doggett, we'd like to ask you a few questions about Helene Stillsen," Stated John as he held up his badge, Monica doing likewise. Veronica nodded stepping aside as she led them both inside her apartment.

"Yes, of course, please come on in."

"Thank you."

"Have a seat, can I get you both some coffee?"

Monica nodded, "Yes thank you, coffee would be great right about now."

The pair watched as the woman made her exit towards the kitchen, casting a gaze around the apartment before sitting down. From the look of things, Veronica was a student of archaeology.

She smiled slightly as John sat down next to her, after he cast a more thorough scan of the room, ever the vigilant observer.

"So, be honest, any thoughts as to all of this? I mean first that weirdness at the hospital…" Started Monica.

"Nope," said John. "Right now I am playing it by ear until I have more facts."

The room was decorated with various pictures and artifacts relating to her apparent hobby, archaeology. John had no real interest in any of it. Veronica soon reappeared with a wooden tray upon rich rested a pot of coffee, three mugs and the regular accoutrements for the drink. There was also a tray of brownies.

"I just baked," said Veronica. "I suppose it seems a mundane thing, but I find it relaxing."

"I thought I smelled fudge," Commented Monica as she helped herself to a brownie.

"How do you take your coffee?" asked Veronica.

"Black," Said John.

"Cream and sugar," Replied Monica, after taking a bite of her brownie.

"So, you said you were here about Helene?" as she handed the agents their coffee.

"Have you heard what happened to her?" asked John.

"I heard that she was in an accident and they were keeping her sedated," Veronica responded. "Beyond that, I know nothing. They would not even let anyone see her."

"They?" John asked as he sipped at the coffee.

"The doctors."

"No one? No one at all?" Asked Monica.

"No one," stated Veronica.

"That's interesting," John noted as he shot a glance over to Monica.

"Very interesting, did they give you a reason why?" Asked Monica.

"The nature of her accident was apparently grim."

"Did they say what kind of accident she was in, or how severe her injuries were?"

"They said a car accident," Veronica said quietly.

John's expression remained stoic.

Monica frowned, judging from Veronica's expression, she wasn't buying it either. She and John exchanged silent glances, and she nodded. They too also had great difficulty at the hospital, in simply attempting to visit the patient, whatever reason they were keeping visitors away must have had good reason, could it be biohazardous?

"Do you know if Helene had any boyfriends or new acquaintances?" asked John as he selected a brownie.

Veronica shook her head, "Not that I know of, all I know is she acquired an ancient canopic jar recently through an auction, it's Egyptian. I can show you a picture of it, here."

Veronica rose from her seat and walked over to where she had a digital camera stationed on a charging dock. Picking up the camera, she powered it on and returned to the agents, and showed her a picture of Helene holding a jar made of gold and ivory with a jackal's head.

"They're supposed to be worth a fortune, she lucked out on the auction, she wants to form a complete set, she's really big into all that Ancient Egyptian mythology."

John's eyebrow raised slightly at the picture. He had a passing familiarity with Egyptian studies, at least slightly passing. This jar was used to hold the pieces of a mummified body's organs. Hardly something he would expect to be collected, but it did not surprise him.

"I see," said John, writing down some notes. "Can we have this picture?"

"...Certainly, I'll print it out now."

Turning around, Veronica walked back over to the charging dock, and powered on the printer to print a copy of the picture she had shown the two agents. Seconds later she returned to their side and handed them a glossy photo.

"Here you go, I really hope you find out whoever it was that hurt her, I'm the only real family she has left, save for George, and she's lucky if and when they can get together on account of her studies."

Monica smiled sympathetically, able to clearly see that this woman was distressed over the circumstances surrounding her friend.

"We'll do what we can, if you can think of anything at all, you can contact us at this number." She stated handing her a business card.

Veronica managed a weak smile and nodded, taking the card. "Thank you."

"Thank you for your time," said Doggett, moving to stand.

Veronica saw the two agents out and they went directly for their car. Starting it up, John looked over to Monica.

"Any vibes on that?" he asked.

"I think she's telling the truth, and I hate tell you this but I think this jar might have a connection to what happened to Helene." 

"Great," said Doggett as he pulled away and into traffic. "Let's go see George and then we'll eat."

Monica frowned, at his remark, "He lives in California, remember? It was in her file."

"Yes, but he is a computer geek," said Doggett. "He has an address for that video conference stuff in his file. I figure we call him up once we get a hold of a computer. Have us a chat."

"Right, now I remember, doubt he'll be able to provide us much info, if any."

"Certainly no brownies or coffee," said Doggett.

Monica only shook her head and smiled, "C'mon let's get out of here."

Doggett started for the local office of the FBI. They could probably get what they needed there.

"Did you get the hotel?"

"Of course I did, be thankful I booked a room with the flight." She commented.

"A room?" said Doggett.

"Hey, be thankful I was able to get _a_ room, some Realtor Convention is in town, I had to take what was available, unless you'd rather shack up again with the roaches." She replied with a roll of her eyes.

"I guess I can sleep in the car," said Doggett.

"And burn out the fuel using the A/C?"

"I don't need the A/C," said Doggett.

"You're getting to be as bad as Mulder; I'm not going to find you doing late night stakeouts in the middle of the backwoods of Pennsylvania next am I?" Chided Monica.

"Not unless you think it'd help?"

"Let's not go getting ahead of ourselves, if you feel that awkward about it, you can sleep on the floor."

"We'll see," said Doggett.


	8. Chapter 8

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**Budget Hotel**

**5:05 PM**

The two Warehouse agents went about eating their lunch in silent contemplation, all the way patiently, or rather impatiently awaiting Artie's reply regarding any new information he could send their way on the case.

Pete threw a cautious glance Myka's way as she finished up the last of her egg roll, chopsticks in hand. There was one particular question that was nagging Pete all morning, and the more he avoided it, the more it continued to slowly eat away at him. "Myka, about this morning…," He started slowly, before deciding to just jump right out and ask it. "Why did you have my shirt?"

At that precise moment two things happened, the Farnsworth buzzed to life, and Myka's hand slipped, causing her to lose her grip on her chopsticks, sending a deep sliver or two into her hand, near immediately she dropped the sticks cursing. She nodded at Pete to answer the Farnsworth as she stood up, going for her purse.

"You alright?" He asked. She nodded again as she dug out her nail kit, apparently fishing for a set of tweezers.

"Just, talk to Artie, I can handle this." Myka replied, sitting on the edge of the bed, she balanced her wrist on the nightstand, attempting to work at tweezing out the wooden splinters in her hand. She looked up as she spied him still watching her intently and she blushed, "I'm fine, just answer the thing."

Shaking his head, Pete flipped open the Farnsworth.

"What do you have for us, Artie?" asked Pete.

"Hopefully the answers to the questions you're so desperately seeking, and you're not going to like what I have tell you," He replied grimly before continuing, "It sounds as though the artifact you're dealing with is ritualistic in nature, if I had to guess, I'd say Ancient Egyptian, especially based on those words you mentioned to Claudia."

"How so?" asked Pete as he walked over and sat next to Myka so she could see and hear Artie.

"The words Ba Ka Ib, they mean soul, spirit, and heart, and you said the victim had no visible wounds correct?" He asked slowly.

"That is what we were told by the doctor and what I read in her medical chart," said Pete. "We were not allowed to examine her."

Myka nodded, as she glanced up briefly from her hand, having little to no luck prying loose the splinters. "Yeah they seemed pretty freaked out by it, I can't blame them, that and the fact she's still alive, but has no heart? Artie how is that even possible?"

"I'm still baffled by that myself, it makes me wonder if a second artifact is involved that is somehow protecting her spirit," He replied, furrowing his brow, the shuffling of papers could be heard on the other end of the Farnsworth, as though Artie was searching for something.

"I'm going need more time to research this, but for right now and I cannot stress this enough, be careful! Whatever it is you're dealing with is very deadly, and the sooner you find it the better! Stay safe agents!"

"See ya Artie," said Pete as he closed the Farnsworth. "That 'nonsense' as Dr. Julien called it actually meant something. Kinda creepy."

Looking over, Pete saw Myka still fiddling with her tweezers trying to get some splinters out of her hand. Shaking his head, he moved over to her side and took her hand. Taking the tweezers gently from her hand, Pete pulled the splinters out slowly. He had had to do some rough medical work in the field during his time in the Marines.

Myka sighed in defeat and blushed, letting Pete work on pulling out the splinters, it was times like these she wished she was ambidextrous, why was it always her writing hand and not the other? "Thanks, I could have managed on my own you know…it's no big deal." She started, awkwardly.

Pete worked in silence until the last splinter was removed. "Now about before..."

Myka quickly pulled her hand back, as though he had burned her, and she ducked her head in embarrassment, all the while hoping he'd drop the subject. "Leena probably messed up our laundry, I mean it wouldn't be the first time right?" She didn't dare look his way, fairly certain her face was turning scarlet.

"There's more to this," said Pete, suddenly acting with incredible perception. "You got real strange after we brought it up. In fact, there has been something going on since."

"Pete, just drop it, please," She made a lame gesture to the dresser, "Top drawer, your shirt's in there, clean and pressed, now can we just end this please?" She spoke in a small voice, equally perturbed and embarrassed.

Pete did not go to the drawer; he just looked at Myka for a few moments and then stood. She was avoiding him now, he could tell. Something was going on, but she was not going to tell him. He did not mean to press her or hurt her.

"I'm sorry Myka," said Pete as he slipped into his suit jacket. "I'm..."

Shaking his head, Pete left the room and walked outside. There was a pizza place next door, so he went there. He needed some time alone to think. He suspected they both did. Besides, the Chinese food did not hold him. Maybe a pan pizza would.

It was only after Pete had left, after she heard the door shut soundly behind him, that Myka let her cracked armor fall, a river of tears spilled down her cheeks, and she cupped her face in her hands, unable to hold back her tears any longer, her body wracked with sobs.

She wouldn't, she couldn't. She couldn't bear the thought of losing him, not just as a partner, but as a lover, no never again, she couldn't bear having to relive that all over again, it'd tear her heart apart, but why then did she secretly wish that each night she went to sleep, Pete's shirt cuddled in her arms that it was him holding her?

Wiping away her tears, Myka got up and slowly made her way to the bathroom, and closed the door behind her as she moved to turn on the faucet. She couldn't let him see her like this, she had to be the strong one, she always was, if she didn't protect Pete, who would protect her?

Myka turned off the faucet after she washed away her ruined makeup and her tears. The sight of her own face, made her heart ache, her eyes were red rimmed, bloodshot from her tears. Shower, she needed a shower, maybe that would clear her head. Stripping down, Myka stepped inside the shower, turned the water on and rested her head against the tiles, closing her eyes solemnly, wishing her worries would wisp away like the steam around her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**Budget Hotel**

**8:05 PM**

It was three hours later when Pete finally returned to the room. He had had three slices of pepperoni pan pizza, some breadsticks, a small plate of chicken wings and three pitchers of water. He had gone over some of his notes from the investigation. He was tired and full though and decided to go and sleep on it. Maybe it would come to him later.

Walking back across the parking lot to the hotel, Pete entered the room quietly. Closing the door, he spied Myka asleep on the bed, the file open. She was out cold, so Pete closed the file and set it aside on the nightstand.

Prepping for bed, he made himself a spot on the floor and stretched out.

**1:13 AM**

Roughly five hours later, Myka awoke, beads of sweat covered her face and neck, her breathing rapid, her heart pounded. She sighed in defeat as she took notice of the time, and pulled her pillow close to her form, burying her face into it as she wept, her body shaking. It happened again, she had relived the case with the Spine, and as always, the dream was very vivid.

She clutched the pillow tightly as she recalled the nightmare, the only way they could release the Spine was to electrocute the host, the first time it worked, but in her nightmare it didn't. Her last memory had been of watching her partner die painfully, the Spine still attached to his back. Even after the vicious artifact finally released him, she could do nothing to revive him, no matter how hard she tried. The nightmare served to haunt her, reminding her of that ill-fated day in Denver.

Still trembling, Myka buried herself deeper into the pillow, attempting to will the memories of her nightmare away, silently crying.

"Myka?" Came Pete's sleepy voice from the darkness. "You ok?"

"I-I'm fine, I'm sorry I woke you, Pete." She managed, speaking up after several moments, all the while praying he didn't notice she had been crying, "I-It's n-nothing, just go back to sleep."

"You're crying?" said Pete as he moved to stand. "What happened?"

Myka cursed silently and rolled onto her side, away from his line of sight, and she remained silent.

"Myka...," said Pete, as he sat on the bed beside her, rubbing her shoulder. "C'mon. Tell me what's bothering you."

"I said I'm ok, I'm sorry I woke you, please just go back to sleep." She replied, sniffling.

"Myka...," said Pete, before sighing a few moments later. "I'm here, ok? For you."

Leaving her, Pete returned to his bed. She heard him being especially quiet over there as if he was thinking.

Myka lie on her side for several moments quietly, the silence in the room was deafening, suffocating. Heaving a sigh, she spoke quietly, her voice barely audible, "I watched you…" She struggled with her words, her tongue felt thick and heavy, "…die…and I couldn't save you…" Myka closed her eyes, the images returning to the forefront of her mind, as did her tears.

"Me?" Said Pete after a few moments. "Die? When was that? Did you dream that?"

"The Spine, the Spine..." She spoke quietly, "I couldn't save you this time..."

"Myka," Chuckled Pete. "I made it. You know that."

"How can you just laugh it off? You died! I had to watch for a second time in my life the person I cared most about, die! And later you just laughed it off like it was nothing! You have no idea what it's like!" She replied as she sat up straight in bed, throwing her pillow hard at him before she buried her face against her knees and sobbed, "No idea…"

"Cared most about...?" Said Pete quietly, shifting positions, he sat up, resting his arms on the mattress. "Myka, I was in the Marines then the Secret Service. Danger is a part of the job, you know that. Besides, you know I can't leave you alone. Who would stop you from becoming one of those over-stressed desk jockeys who consider office gift parties the most fun they have?"

Myka laughed half-heartedly, before her tears returned, "I don't even know why I bothered, you don't know me as well as you think you do, not at all…"

"You eat sugar, but only when you're stressed," started Pete. "Ice-skating, for some reason, helps you think. I know you. Perhaps better than you think I do."

Myka managed a small smile; he had been paying attention, even still… "C'mon Pete, admit it, you don't know me as well as you think you do, I doubt you'd even know how I like to be kissed." Myka froze stiff, unable to believe the words had even left her mouth. Her eyes glanced nervously in Pete's direction, and she fought back the urge to swallow down the lump in her throat.

He was wearing that gaze, that intense piercing gaze, and it was directed straight at her.

"What if your life didn't depend on it, would you still let me kiss you then?" He asked quietly, his eyes never leaving hers as he slowly stood up.

Myka scooted backwards on the bed, drawing her knees back up to her chest as she did. Her gaze fell to his mouth; involuntarily as if on autopilot, her tongue swept across her lips, and her gaze rose back to meet his, what was going on behind those pretty green eyes? Pete wondered.

Pete was not exactly sure how to proceed. He was in uncharted waters with Myka right now. So many things coming to the surface that were unexpected. Maybe that was the order of the day? To do the unexpected, the daring. Pete slowly reached out his hand and touched Myka's cheek.

Myka shivered as his fingertips lightly touched her face, and she lowered her head slightly, but made no motion to move away, even as he gently tipped her face up to gaze into her eyes, in his own eyes she could see a mixture of emotions, ranging from confusion, sadness, curiosity, and uncertainty?

This road, so familiar and yet so new. This was not Vegas, this was here. Now. Was he taking advantage of Myka's confusion here? Was she confused? He sure was. Pete looked at Myka for a moment and then hesitated.

Her breath hitched in her throat as Pete pulled away suddenly, his lips inches from hers, and he turned his head, sighing heavily as he held a hand to his face.

"…Pete?"

"I'm a little confused here, Myka," said Pete quietly. "Maybe...maybe I should..."

God help her she had fallen for the big oaf, and she'd be damned if she didn't desperately want a kiss from him, just as much as she wanted him to hold in her arms, not his shirt night after night.

Leaning towards him, Myka gently brushed her nose against his, drawing Pete out of his reverie, and he nuzzled her nose, almost adoringly in nature, before he moved to pull back again slightly, "Myka…?" His voice was a low whisper, intended only for her ears.

Her gaze fell to his mouth, before rising back up to meet his eyes. She leaned in closer, slowly; her eyes never leaving his as she brushed her lips lightly against his in a feather soft kiss.

Pete's mind flooded with thoughts and yet felt distinctly blank when her lips met his. So many stray thoughts flying by like lightning bolts and no less electrifying. One thought did come through clearly though and a most odd thought at that; this was way better than Vegas. Still, very gently, Pete pulled away.

Myka shivered, and her eyes opened dreamily, her expression breathless.

"Wow."

"Alice was wrong about you…," She started, still as caught up in the moment as her partner and Pete's brow furrowed at her comment, and Myka smiled, reaching out to gently stroke Pete's face with the back of her hand, "…you're not a good kisser, you're a damned good kisser."

"Thanks...," started Pete. "Myka...about..."

"You're still wondering about your shirt?" She sighed.

"Yeah."

"No, I should tell you, I'd feel bad if I didn't," She started sheepishly, tracing idle circles on the bed sheets. Myka's features turned pink as she continued, "I don't know why but, holding your shirt in my arms filled me with a sense of comfort, it reminded me you were still here, that you weren't…gone. The first night I took it, I fell asleep with it in my arms."

Myka's cheeks darkened to near scarlet as she continued, and in spite of all this Pete couldn't help but find it unbelievably adorable, and remained silent as Myka continued speaking, "Some nights I wished it were you, holding me, comforting me, and letting me know you'd be here when I woke up the next morning."

"That's...deep," said Pete slowly.

"You wanted to know why though, didn't you?" She asked, confused by his statement.

"Except now I have shirt-envy."

Myka giggled at his comment, only Pete could coin a term as shirt envy.

"Anyway, I better go."

"Stay, please?" She replied, quietly, her voice a low whisper.

"Seriously?"

Myka nodded, and Pete smiled. "Stay put a minute." Cupping her face with his hand, Pete leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to her lips, lingering a little longer then anticipated and finally pulled back, sighing softly, still unable to believe he had just shared another kiss with his partner, the real Myka Bering, and not some phony bologna trapped in a mirror posing as her.

"Looks like we lost your pillows," said Pete.

Holding a hand to her mouth, Myka's eyes widened as Pete fell off the bed, attempting to grab the pillows from the floor by bending over backwards. "Pete! Are you ok?" She asked as she crawled to the edge of the bed. Myka gave out a shocked yelp as her partner promptly sat up and tossed the pillows past her onto the bed, before he grasped her arm and pulled her close for a surprise kiss.

"Couldn't resist."

"You're terrible!" She giggled as he pulled himself back onto the bed, turning away Myka grabbed the pillows, and positioned them as comfortably as possible near the headboard, being they were hotel issue, they offered little support and resembled lifeless clouds. Lying on her side, Myka smiled at Pete and patted the space near her, "C'mere soldier."

"Marine."

"I know, I know, Marine." She replied kissing the tip of his nose, giving a soft sigh of content as Pete pulled her closer to his form, this so beat cuddling up to his shirt.

"Comfy?"

Myka nodded, and snuggled deeper into his arms.

Pete only smiled, "I'll take that as a yes."

Myka sighed as she rested her head on Pete's chest. Her ear was resting over his heart and she could hear the beating of it. Pete lightly ran his fingers through Myka's hair as they lay on the bed together, in each other's arms.

"It's not just the shirt I'm wearing, is it?" asked Pete.

Myka gave him a short jab to the ribs and then snuggled closer to him. Pete chuckled slightly and kissed the top of her head.

Pete sleepily traced soft circles along Myka's back; the effect lulled her to sleep near instantly, and Pete felt his eyelids grow heavier, before he finally drifted off with her. Neither of them was quite certain as to where exactly this new found revelation would lead them, but at current, one thought and one thought alone filled both their hearts; peace.


	10. Chapter 10

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**F.B.I. Field Office**

**9:05 PM**

Doggett sat at a conference table with his notepad in front of him. He was tapping a pencil on the tabletop as he eyed nothing in particular. This peculiar stare could unnerve some, but not the one who was just entering the room.

Monica Reyes pushed open the conference room door, a large brown paper bag in one hand and a cardboard carrier with two coffee cups in the other.

"A little help, John?" she asked.

"Hmm?" Doggett started. "Oh, sure."

Standing, John walked over to help Monica with her burden and then closed the door once again. He stretched, working out the kinks as Monica opened the paper bag and began to remove the contents. Chinese food.

"Chinese food and coffee," said John. "This feels real familiar."

Monica's brow furrowed as though in intent thought for a brief moment, "You mean the night that Agent Spender snuck into the Bureau Building, nosing about for information on Mulder?" She asked.

Those assigned to The X-Files Division knew all too well about working odd hours, often well into the wee hours of the morning depending on the case itself, it was also sadly a rather common occurrence for them to find themselves tucked away in the basement office, sitting around doing absolutely nothing, quite literally hidden away like old case files that would rather be left long forgotten than solved.

The particular night she was referring to found John burning the midnight oil, ready to crash once his shift had ended, after quite literally sitting around doing nothing. By a stroke of pure luck, he had accidentally stumbled upon a disfigured Jeffrey Spender, rifling through old case files in the dark and he quickly discovered his night was far from over.

"I'd prefer not to think about that right now."

"Geez, you're in a mood, forget I said anything."

"Just thinking over the case," said John tiredly. "The brother gave us nothing."

"Rome wasn't built in a day John," Replied Monica as she took a sip of her coffee, sharing his sentiments at what little if any progress they had made on the case so far. The information they had gathered so far had only seemed to confuse them both further, rather than aid them, leaving them with more questions, and fewer answers.

Monica passed him a cup of coffee, and offered him a sympathetic smile, "Any thoughts, theories?" She asked quietly, though her own theories were more outside the box, Monica valued his opinions, and she suspected that their opposite thinking patterns was all the more reason they'd been partnered together, or for that matter operated so well as a team.

"I don't know, Monica," he started. "Something better give soon though."

Monica gave John's shoulder a gentle squeeze of reassurance, and she smiled as he looked in her direction, his expression tired, if it meant solving the case, he'd continue working right on through the night. "For right now let's eat and recharge our batteries, it's been a long day."

"What did you get?" he asked.

Monica smiled at him as she grabbed a box of takeout, and passed it into his hands as he set down his coffee, "I got you an order of Mongolian Beef, and a side BBQ Pork Fried Rice,"

"Outstanding," John remarked before his brow furrowed again as he held up a pair of paper-wrapped chopsticks. "Don't tell me..."

Holding up a fork wrapped in plastic, Monica grinned and passed it to him, she knew full and well he hated to use chopsticks and teased her constantly for eating with them.

"Thank goodness," he said. "What'd you get?"

"Me? I got Orange Chicken, and a side of Crab Rangoons. Oh and there are four egg rolls and yes I am willing to share so no griping about me stealing yours," She quipped digging into her food with her chopsticks.

"I beg your pardon?"

Monica shook her head and rolled her eyes at her partner's remark, "Yeah right, like you didn't steal one from me the last time when you thought I wasn't looking, denial." Monica leaned back in her chair as they continued to eat; it felt good to give her mind a bit of breathing room, even if for a few minutes, she was looking forward to returning to the hotel to crash later, it had been a long day, and an exhausting one at that.

"We'll give this another hour and then grab some sack time."

Doggett stretched his shoulders for a moment and then began to eat at the Chinese food. He had not eaten anything outside of some salted cashews and a bottle of water for a few hours. The warmish food was doing him good. He sat back as he ate at the Mongolian Beef.

Not a lot of the case was making sense. A victim without a heart that still lived. Highly uncooperative medical staff. No witnesses. Even the security patrol at the old mill site had been at the far end of the compound. Either a local or someone with patience and time. No real friends, no enemies, no new people in her life. So where did this leave them?

Who were the other two people that came to see the vic? 


	11. Chapter 11

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**Budget Hotel**

**5:50 AM**

Pete woke up slowly, Myka still in his arms. Smiling softly, he stroked her hair before gently tucking a strand behind her ear. She looked so peaceful when she was asleep. Tipping her chin up, Pete leaned in to softly kiss her on the lips.

Myka, not yet fully awake, leaned into the kiss, and returned it lovingly, one hand threaded into Pete's hair, and her other hand drifted down his chest, before coming to rest on his side as Pete deepened the kiss. Myka sighed sleepily, her green eyes slowly drifted open and she smiled, only to seconds later gasp in shock, and she moved backwards, her actions sent both them to the floor in a tangled heap of limbs.

"WHOA!" Started Pete. "What..?"

"Oh God, what did we do, no, no, never mind we, what did I do?" Myka rested her forearm across her face, and sighed, this had to be artifact related, right? Why was he in bed with her?

"Nothing!" Said Pete. "We just slept together! Um, but...not like that!"

Myka sighed as the memories of last night came rushing back to her, and she closed her eyes, her heart beat on rapidly. What was she thinking? Was she mad? How on earth could she let herself fall for him, no, decide to become involved with him? Her partner of all people, again?

"Relax, ok?"

Myka nodded, "I'm ok…just…just give me a minute," She replied as Pete carefully sat up. She propped herself up on her elbows, and sighed solemnly before she launched herself into Pete's arms, and snugly wrapped her arms around him, Pete sat with his back against the bed and pulled her close, and tenderly pressed a kiss into her hair, "Hey, you ok?" He asked gently.

"I'm afraid of making a mistake, what if we're making a mistake?" Her voice was quiet, and Pete remained silent for several moments before he pulled back to look into her eyes, normally an answer coming like that from a woman was enough to cripple a man's heart, or make you want to go drown in a haze of alcohol and forget it all, as Pete had learned from many a AA meeting. Even still, he knew the pain that lingered in her heart, having bore witness to it in a quartz mine several months back, the subject was a delicate one for her, even now, and given his own time in the Marines, he knew that pain all too well, be it a comrade or a lover, it was an experience not to be relished.

"…I would be willing to try and give us a chance, see where this leads us, and try to make whatever it is we have here work, but only if that's what _you_ want, Myka." Pete's heart raced, one half of him desperately wanted to try and make whatever they had between them work, but at the same time he didn't want to risk breaking her heart.

"Is that what _you_ want, Myka?" He asked quietly.

Myka nodded slowly, certain she was on the verge of tears again, "…yes…it…it…is….Pete."

"You sure?"

She smiled as she framed his face in her hands, and leaned forward to kiss him adoringly, before she pulled back to rest her forehead against his and smiled again. "Yes you cookie loving beast, I mean it."

"Well, ok then," said Pete as he slipped an arm under her legs.

"PETE!" Myka yelped out as he lifted her up into his arms, forcing her to loop her arms around his neck for support. Pete chuckled as he nuzzled her neck, "Beast huh?" He growled softly and nipped lightly at her jawbone, and Myka shivered, her eyes drifted shut as he continued to trail kisses along her jawline. Her eyes grew wide when she realized he had begun to walk in the direction of the bathroom, and her right hand shot out to brace herself against the doorframe.

"What do you think we're…I mean you're doing?" She hissed.

"Going green," said Pete with a coy smile. "Water preservation."

"I'm all for helping the environment, but we go in there, we're likely to lose an hour…" Myka reddened as a grin slowly formed across Pete's face as she suddenly realized how suggestive her wording came out sounding. Myka found herself stumbling and tripping mercilessly on her own words, or in this case lack thereof as she attempted to formulate a reply. "…wh-what…I…well…"

"Ooh and you tell me I'm the one with the dirty mind, where's yours been, swimming around in the—" Pete teased, only to be silenced in mid-sentence as her hand clamped over his mouth, Myka's eyes narrowed as she leaned in closer, her nose just barely touching his.

"I can only imagine where yours was yesterday morning," She countered and smiled knowingly, as her partner reddened in response, he himself was now rendered wordless. "Uh-huh, just as I thought, my ponytail's distracting huh?" Myka rested her hand against the side of his face, and grinned victoriously as Pete sheepishly cleared his throat.

"…well...you are…" Pete sighed, "Oh Hell. We keep this up, we really are gonna lose an hour," Pete pushed open the bathroom door and set Myka down on her feet, and softly kissed her lips. "Just try and save me some hot water this time kay?" Pete turned and moved to walk away, but halted as Myka's hand grasped hold of his, and he cast a cautious glance in her direction, and he sighed as she wrapped her arms around him from behind, and Pete pressed a soft kiss to her palm.

"Myka…," He started slowly, before he turned around to face her, so that they were seeing eye-to-eye. "…I…" Christ when he did turn into a babbling fool around her?

"You don't want to rush into this do you?" She whispered, and Pete nodded.

Myka sighed, "Neither do I." She spoke softly before she gently tipped her head up to kiss him lovingly. Any other man would have wanted to have their way with her by now, coming together in a bout of crazed, frenzied, passion. She didn't want that, not with Pete, and she was sensing neither did he. The action alone spoke volumes to her, he wanted to prove he was not just another caveman out for a piece of tail, namely hers.

Pete reached out and softly traced Myka's cheek with his fingers.

Myka blushed, touched by the tender action, and brought her hand up so that it rested over his, and she stood quietly, not saying anything for several moments as she gazed into his warm brown eyes; she of all people never expected to see this side of him, directed at her no less, who knew he could be so sweet?

"I'll be quick, think you can procure us breakfast?"

"Sure," he said. "Sugarless coffee, toast and fruit coming up."

Beaming, Myka gave him a chaste kiss before she disappeared into the bathroom, the door quickly closed shut behind her.

Pete leaned against the doorframe for a moment, smiling. Shaking his head slightly, a smile crept onto his features and then he turned and walked over to the dresser to change before proceeding to put on his suit jacket last. Straining his shirt a little, he picked up his keys, credentials and sidearm before heading out of the door. He had seen a small diner just down the street a bit. Hopefully they had waffles.

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**Budget Hotel**

**6:34 AM**

Doggett sat at a small table in the hotel's breakfast room. They served a breakfast that consisted of coffee, fruits, yogurt, bagels or muffins. For the moment, Doggett had a cup of coffee in front of him and a newspaper in his hand. He casually read over the sports section as he waited for his partner to come downstairs. Across from him rested another coffee with accoutrements, a cup of strawberries and a yogurt.

He had gotten up early and dressed so he could head downstairs. This allowed him to secure them a table and some chow and also gave her the room to herself. This single room business had its disadvantages but it could be worse. It could have been Mulder up all night watching UFO documentaries and eating those damn seeds.

Monica yawned and stretched tiredly as she entered the hotel's breakfast room, one hand rested on her neck, and she fought back a yawn as she walked over to where her partner sat, and pulled out the chair, and greeted him tiredly.

"Well hello," said Doggett, a slight smirk on his face. "Morning to you too."

"I said morning. I'm sorry, I slept like Hell last night," She replied tiredly as she added cream and sugar to her coffee, and lazily stirred the contents with her drink stir, before she finally dropped the drink stir back onto the table and took a long appreciative sip.

"That rattle-trap alarm clock didn't wake you up?"

"Hardly, nearly fell asleep in the shower," Monica replied as she pinched the bridge of her nose, attempting to will herself awake, perhaps if she did some numerology equations in her head…

"What's that gibberish?" asked Doggett as he sipped his coffee.

"It's not gibberish; I'm doing numerology equations in my…wait I was talking out loud?"

"Yup," Doggett replied.

That alone seemed to sober her, and she chuckled half-heartedly, "This case is getting me to already, speaking of which any new leads?" She asked as she downed the last of her coffee. Monica smiled slightly as she spied the yogurt and the strawberries, and popped open the yogurt, and added the strawberries to the mix, before she proceeded to dig in.

"I thought we would look into that other angle," said Doggett. "The other two visitors that came to see our vic in the hospital."

"Where did you dig that up, any ID on who the two were?"

"When we visited the hospital last," said Doggett. "That Doctor Julien mentioned it in passing. Almost like he regretted saying it."

"Think he knows something we don't?" Monica asked in between bites of yogurt.

"Most likely he knew we would then be looking deeper," Doggett replied. "Which we will be."


	12. Chapter 12

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**7:42 AM**

After everyone had showered and changed and breakfast was consumed, the two Secret Service agents left their room. Entering the parking lot, they made a beeline for their car and got in.

"So, where are we going?" asked Myka.

"I thought a library first," said Pete. "Then to the Carnegie Museum of Natural History. They have an exhibit there, the Walton Hall of Ancient Egypt. Maybe we can learn something there. See if we can get a line on our artifact."

Myka shook her head, "No, I think we should check out the museum first, we'd only waste time at the library…"

"How so?"

"Well for one, find out if anything's been stolen, gone missing? Maybe then it'll give us a better idea of what we're looking for, don't you think?" She pointed out.

"Keep it cool though," said Pete. "I don't want to draw a lot of attention."

"If you're that worried about drawing attention, I can always say I'm your archaeologist girlfriend, who just got back from a three-month dig in Austin…"

"…who decided to come pay her charming ex-marine boyfriend a surprise visit? Decide to make up for lost time?" Pete replied teasingly, emphasizing his words as he spoke.

Myka rolled her eyes, though a slight smiled pulled at her lips, and she rested her hand on her chin as she gazed out the window, "Like you'd even manage three months without me."

"It'd be a lot of push-ups and cold showers, that's for sure."

Myka smiled, a light blush crept across her cheeks as she gave his hand a tender squeeze. Those first couple of missions together she truly wondered why they'd been paired together; their clashing personality types seemed to be a recipe for disaster, a literal mismatch for lack of better words.

It was only up until their mission in Paris together that their conflict finally came to a head, and the pair launched into a torrid battle of words and barbs back at the Warehouse, practically at each other's throats, only to in the end get slimed with neutralizer, both unaware that their negativity affected the surrounding artifacts to a point that it called for them to both get neutralized, as opposed to the artifacts themselves.

It almost seemed like there would be a repeat of events on their next mission, yet somehow, someway they had both managed to make peace, and successfully retrieve the artifact, even shocking their boss upon their return, who was all but convinced they had toasted his car.

They still fought, they still bickered, but now, the grounds seemed more even, and their partnership only seemed to grow stronger.

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**Carnegie Museum of Natural History**

**8:00 AM**

Pete sighed and shook his head as he looked over in Myka's direction once they pulled into the museum parking lot, and she frowned, "What, what's wrong?"

"You, you look, well, preppy."

"Preppy?" Myka's neck scrunched slightly.

"Yeah, business-like," Said Pete. "Professional."

"Why should my appearance matter, I thought the point was to look professional?"

"Did you forget your cover suggestion?" started Pete. "You look more like a lab rat."

"A what?"

Pete sighed and shook his head. "Here, let me help you."

Myka's frown only deepened at his remark and Pete sighed before he gently took her arms in his hands, and unbuttoned her shirt sleeves before he then rolled the sleeves up to her elbows, Myka stilled his hands as they rose to her shirt collar, "What are you doing?"

"If we're engaged, I've got my work cut out for me," Pete chuckled with a shake of his head as he reached behind her head to undo her ponytail. He smiled slightly as he mussed her hair up before he spread it over her shoulders, and readjusted her shirt's collar. "I'm trying to make you look like a woman who spends her time in the dirt and not hunched over a microscope all day."

"And what were you going for, Sonny Crockett?"

"For one, I am shocked you made a TV reference," said Pete with a chuckle. "Two, I don't do pastels. Now you need something else to pull this off..."

Pete stroked his chin in thought as he looked Myka over. Despite the situation he had a little trouble keeping his mind from wandering as he eyed her. As far as the cover went, he was running low on ideas. That was when Myka thought of something.

Leaning back, Myka untucked her shirt and tied the lower ends together, so that it lay knotted against her waist, "Better? She asked as she looked up and Pete nodded weakly.

"Not much we can do with a Secret Service outfit," nodded Pete.

Pete pulled his sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and slipped them on. He looked over himself and removed his tie. After unbuttoning the top two buttons on his shirt he moved to get out of the car. Just as he set one leg out of the car, he felt a hand on his arm.

"Lose the jacket," Myka whispered as she leaned in to kiss his cheek, before she then slipped out the car, where she waited for Pete to join her around the front.

"Good idea," said Pete with a nod.

Getting out of the car, he took off the jacket, tossing it into the back seat. He rolled up his sleeves and then ran his fingers through his hair to mess it up a bit. Just as he was about to close the car door he thought of something else.

Ducking back in, he went to the glove compartment and sorted through the contents. On the trip down, they had stopped at a barbeque place. He put some of the extra napkins and what-nots in there to keep them out of the way.

"There we go," he said to himself.

Taking a toothpick out of the pile of napkins, Pete slipped off the plastic cover and placed the toothpick between his teeth. Now he felt his mildly undercover persona was complete. Stepping out of the car, he put on his best Devil Dog mug and put his arm around Myka's shoulders as they walked into the museum.

They made their way into the lobby where he checked in with the guard desk to let them know he was an armed Federal agent.

"You want a tour around?" Asked the guard sergeant.

"Nah, man," Said Pete. "Don't want to put ya'll through any trouble."

"No trouble," Said the sergeant. "Always good to help out a fellow badge and Marine. Am I right?"

"Oo-rah," Pete replied with a curt nod.

"Oo-rah," The Sergeant replied back. "Simms, you got the desk. Come on, Mac. Good morning, miss. Name's Largo. Caleb Largo."

"Good morning," Myka replied with a smile.

"This is my girlfriend, Myka," said Pete. "She's been off on a dig for three months. Just got back yesterday evening."

"Three months?" Said the Sergeant. "Rough."

"Hell yeah, dude," Said Pete just loud enough.

"You all want to see anything in particular?" Asked Largo.

"I _just_ got off duty, bro," Said Pete. "There is something in particular I wanna see. Oh, in the museum..."

Pete and Largo chuckled a moment.

"Oh, I _promise_ he'll have my full attention later, right soldier?" Myka cooed, as she nuzzled Pete's cheek, and gave his side a light squeeze, she hoped the guard was buying into the act, she prided herself on her professionalism, undercover or not, she felt slightly under pressure, and Pete? Well he could just be full of surprises…

"Marine," said Largo out of reflex. "You all engaged or what?"

Myka snuggled closer to Pete, leaning her head on his shoulder, "Only recently," She replied to Largo as she laced her fingers through Pete's hand. "We're getting our rings fitted later, what I would really like to see now is the Walton Hall of Ancient Egypt, I've heard you have some very interesting pieces, even a couple up for auction isn't that right?"

"Word gets around."

"I don't go away on three-month excavations for nothing, even if it means time away from my one and only."

"Yeah, man," said Pete. "You think we could get a look?"

"Umm...," started Largo, "I don't know if..."

"Oh you don't mean to tell us we came all the way out here for nothing? I'd hate for this to be a wasted visit…" Myka frowned in disappointment; she shivered as Pete whispered softly in her ear.

_"Keep it cool,"_ said Pete in a low whisper as he nuzzled Myka's ear.

"And he wonders why I get away for three months," Myka chuckled nervously, "So you don't think there's anything you can do for us?" She asked again as she forced herself to concentrate, _"Act like you're engaged, not a bride with cold feet, focus Bering." _She reprimanded herself. Cuddling with Pete was one thing, but actually flirting like they were, this was proving to be downright distracting.

Largo paused in his walk and looked over Pete and Myka, his expression one of apprehension. Clearly he was disturbed by their direction of curiosity. It was several moments and one, long awkward silence later before Largo spoke again.

"Come with me," he said quietly.

The two agents followed Largo as he made his way towards a plain white door set off to the side of the hallway in which they were currently standing. The door opened to reveal a dim corridor which appeared to house a whole new set of rooms behind the scenes.

"Back here is extra storage and some cleaning facilities for the artifacts," started Largo as they walked.

The trio made their way down the corridor to a room that contained three desks with computers, a water cooler and a number of filing cabinets along one wall. After the three entered, Largo checked the hallway and then closed the door. When he locked it, Pete's interest piqued.

"Ok look," said Largo. "I'm telling you this because you're Secret Service, but keep it under your hat, huh? You heard nothing from me."

"Not a word," said Pete.

"Ok," said Largo as he got a cup from the water cooler. "We had a break in about two weeks ago, in the Walton Hall exhibit. Nothing major in the grand scheme, but a couple items of more historic and academic value."

Largo filled the cup with water and downed it immediately. He filled it up twice more before he continued. Myka cast a glance at Pete.

"A couple of items related to the preparation of mummification and funerals," Largo said quietly. "It was weird because they really would not get much money on the black market or from a collector. Maybe a grand for the lot of what was taken, if that."

"That is odd," said Pete. "I don't recall hearing about it though?"

"It was kept quiet and fairly internal," Largo replied.

"I see," nodded Pete. "Do you have a list of the items? Maybe we could quietly investigate things."

"I don't know...," said Largo.

"Like you said, man," started Pete. "Word gets around. Myka is in the community and I work for the Secret Service. It's bound to get out."

Largo paused, once again in deep thought. He was nervous and his brow was covered with a thin sheen of sweat.

"You didn't hear it from me," said Largo.

Pete made a zipping motion with his lips and tapped the side of his nose.

Largo slowly walked over to one of the filing cabinets and searched through the drawers. A few moments later he extracted a manila envelope and closed the drawer. He turned and handed the file to Myka.

Myka smiled as he handed her the file folder, "Thanks, you mind if we use one of the desks, it's a little dark in here,"

"Go ahead."

Pete and Myka watched as Largo leaned against one of the other desks a short distance away, his back turned to the agents, they looked up briefly as he answered his radio, and signaled to the pair with his finger, indicating he would be a moment and stepped away.

Pete nodded at Largo and then turned back to Myka as she made her way to one of the empty desks. Walking over to Myka, he turned on the desk lamp for her as she sat down. The top of the desk was cluttered with files and other office components so he cleared it away and moved the pieces to the other desks.

Myka flipped open the file folder as Pete leaned over her, and began to carefully peruse the information within, "Ok, let's see what we have here, that's weird, some of the artifacts they're missing include a canopic jar." Myka sighed, and shook her head, just barely acknowledging that Pete placed his hand on her shoulder to lean in for a closer look. "Safe bet, that's not our artifact."

"Why?"

"Well, in Ancient Egypt, when the deceased was prepared for mummification, they would remove the lungs, intestines, stomach, and the liver but they never removed the heart. It was believed the deceased would need it later, to allow them entrance into the afterlife, well according to ancient myth."

"Well, it does fit those words the victim muttered before lapsing into a coma."

"I wonder, the heart is considered sacred, we can always mention it to Artie."

"What else was taken?"

"Amulets, shabtis, all of which were considered items of protection, there has to be something here, but what?" Remarked Myka as she rested her forehead against her hand and narrowed her eyes in concentration as she flipped a page in the file, at the very least she was grateful that photographs of the catalogued artifacts were provided, even if slightly blurry.

Pete studied the file along with Myka. It was pretty fascinating stuff, even if it was not in his line of interest. He noticed that Myka seemed to be in one of her modes again. She was concentrating hard, almost like she was attempting to mentally force the clues to the surface. Standing back, Pete placed his hands on Myka's shoulders and began to gently work the muscles.

Myka sighed softly as Pete gently massaged her shoulders, and melted away the growing tension, Myka tensed up slightly as he leaned in closer to examine the file, and shivered as his warm breath tickled her ear, "Are you trying to send my concentration running for the hills?" She whispered harshly as she turned her head slightly towards him.

It wasn't that she didn't mind their closeness, it was almost as though her senses had been reawakened, just now recalling how intimate such mundane moments like this could be. Ok, so maybe she did mind this newfound closeness, just a smidge.

"What is that scent you're wearing?"

"I don't wear perfume, remember? It's probably the shampoo I used..." Replied Myka, as she turned her attention back to the file. Her eyes widened as Pete softly sniffed her hair, and Myka glanced back in his direction, wondering if curiosity had suddenly gotten the better of him, or if he was just trying to annoy her.

"Nope, not the shampoo...," said Pete as he moved to examine her neck. This proved somewhat difficult as she was starting to scrunch it again.

"It's my lotion, ok?"

"Really? Asked Pete. "What is it?"

"Guess," She replied dryly as she reached for her cell phone, "I'm going to snap some pictures of these, send them to Claudia, and then we can go check out the library."

"Almond...with...," started Pete as he sniffed at her neck yet again. "And honeysuckle!"

Despite herself, Myka couldn't help but blush at his remark, she never would have expected him to guess the scent, then again if there were cookies buried beneath the floorboards, she imagined he'd probably be able to sniff them out like a bloodhound.

Pete waited patiently as Myka snapped the pictures of the file. She was nearly done when the door to the room began to open. Pete stepped in to block view of Myka, his hand coming to the grip of his sidearm. The door opened to expose Largo who stepped in and closed the door quickly after. Pete subtly relaxed his posture, somewhat.

"You all about done?" asked Largo. "We're about to close the building. Some kind of conference with the professors."

"Yeah," said Pete as Myka put her hand on his back, indicating that all was cool. "Sorry if we caused you any trouble, eh?"

"Don't worry about it," said Largo. "Just buy me a beer one time."

"You got it," Pete replied.

"Anytime," Smiled Myka.

Largo led the duo back out into the lobby and to the front door. Pete and Myka shook hands with the man and then left, the door locking behind them.

"He knows something we don't,"

"You noticed that too back there?"

Myka nodded, "You think he's had contact with the artifact?"

"We'll keep an eye on him."


	13. Chapter 13

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**UPMC Mercy Hospital**

**10:05 AM**

Doggett and Reyes made their way up the front walk of the hospital and into the lobby. The receptionist on duty was not the one with which they had previously dealt. Reyes badged her and the woman went to call someone on the phone. Doggett stopped her.

"All we need is directions to the security office."

"Umm...," started the receptionist. "It's through those doors there and to the left, I think."

"You don't sound so sure of yourself," Replied Reyes.

"I just started here, like, two days ago?" the receptionist replied.

Doggett proceeded towards the indicated doors and pushed them open. Reyes followed a few steps behind. Doggett moved through the halls in a curt manner, brushing past people as he went.

"Down here, Monica," he said. "To the right."

"Thanks for your help," Reyes fought back the urge to roll her eyes as she stepped away and followed after Doggett.

Doggett waited by the door to the security office until Monica joined him. This section of the hospital appeared busy so it took her a moment to make it through the crowd. When she did, Doggett turned to the door and knocked with the flat of his fist. When the door opened, a man in a white shirt with a plain silver-metal badge found himself looking at two sets of FBI credentials.

"Special Agents Doggett and Reyes," started John. "We're investigating a case and need to review some footage from yesterday."

"Regarding?" The man asked in a semi-interested tone.

"Helene Stillsen," Doggett said. "Yesterday. Let's say 3:15 pm onward."

Sighing, the guard turned to a station that housed several monitors and brought up the requested footage for the two agents, "Here you go, this is yesterday's footage."

Doggett stood and watched the monitors.

Reyes stood silently by and observed the footage on the monitors closely, "Wait, freeze this frame." The guard froze the requested image and Reyes gestured to the screen, "This is obviously the patient's doctor, who are the other two? The man and the woman?" She questioned the guard.

"Umm," started the guard. "I can check the visitor log?"

"Good idea," said Doggett.

Turning in his chair the guard grabbed a clipboard and flipped through the sheets, he frowned as he continued to flip through the papers, "That's odd, there's no names listed here, excuse me a moment." Picking up the phone the guard turned away from Reyes and Doggett and the pair exchanged glances.

"Hey," said Doggett as he tapped the man on the shoulder. "Who was the receptionist yesterday at around that time?"

The guard flipped through the clipboard sheets again. "Marla Galen."

"When is she here next?"

"Umm, today...at 11:30..."

"Good."

"Why ask about her?" asked Monica. "They didn't sign in."

Doggett nodded at one of the monitors and hit rewind on it. When he hit play, Monica saw the two strangers there talking to her for some time. The male even talking more closely with her.

Monica nodded, "Ah, she does appear quite enamored doesn't she?" She smirked slightly as she observed the other female. "She doesn't seem overly thrilled; sure it's not just a little lover's quarrel?" Monica quipped, at John's reaction she held up her hand, "Kidding, let's go and talk with Miss Galen."

"You might find her in the lunch room," started the guard. "She usually arrives early and reads."

"Thanks," said Doggett as he opened the door to the office and left.

Reyes tailed behind Doggett, and the pair made their way to the lunch room. Already seated were several employees and visitors, eating their meals in silence. In one corner of the room near the windows, the pair spied a young red-haired woman who sat quietly reading, her nose buried deep in a paperback, she seemed oblivious to her surroundings.

"Take the lead on this one," said Doggett.

"Is that a nice way of saying I'm more approachable?" Asked Reyes.

Doggett simply stared at Monica.

"I'll take that as a yes," Monica smiled slightly and shook her head, before she proceeded to approach the young woman; Monica cleared her throat softly and smiled as the woman looked up from her book.

"Miss Galen? My name is Agent Reyes, I'm with the F.B.I., I was wondering if I could speak with you?"

"F.B.I.?" Marla asked as she looked up from her book.

Monica flicked open her badge, before she placed it back inside her inner jacket pocket.

"I'm here to ask you about two visitors that came into see Helene Stillsen yesterday, a man and a woman, around 3:15 in the afternoon that sound about right to you?" Monica started, and Marla swallowed nervously as she closed her book, her fingers idly tracing the outer edges of the pages.

"I see a lot of faces, you'd have to be more specific," She started hesitantly, and Monica pulled out an empty chair, and sat down next to her. Clasping her hands together, Monica offered the woman a soft smile of encouragement.

"C'mon Marla, I've seen the security cam footage, he was a tall guy right? Dark hair, dark hair eyes, nice smile, doesn't sound like a face a woman would want to forget," Marla blushed and Monica smiled, "So, do you recall his name?"

"I think it was, Peter? Pete? Pete that was his name, and I think his last name was…was…Latitude? Latti-something, I can't really remember, oh! Lattimer, that's it, he said that he and his partner was with the Secret Service, they came to see about Helene, I told her I'd have to check with the Doctor, but he insisted that they see her."

Monica nodded, writing down the info on a pad of paper, "Do you recall the name of his partner? She was a dark-haired woman, tall, thin?"

Marla frowned, "I think her name was, Mika? I can't quite recall her last name, seemed really uptight though, like some desk jockey just assigned to field duty." Monica's expression remained blank and she jotted down the information.

"Thank you, Miss Galen you've been very helpful." Monica stood up and pocketed the notepad; Marla nodded, "Not at all, anything to help out the F.B.I. right?" She smiled nervously, and Monica smiled back before she walked back over to where John stood waiting.

When Monica came up to him, he handed her a coffee. "Get anything useful?"

"She said the two were Secret Service, and they insisted on seeing Helene Stillsen." She replied taking the offered coffee, Monica glanced down at her notepad, and read off the information, "The names she gave me were Pete Lattimer, and the woman's name was Mika, didn't get the last." 

"Secret Service?" asked John aloud. "No friggin' way."

"That's what she said, apparently this is deeper than we thought, how did you want to handle this?"

"We'll go back to our field office," started John as he sipped his coffee. "Run it and see what shakes loose."


	14. Chapter 14

**Pittsburgh Pennsylvania**

**Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh**

**10:35 AM**

Myka glanced at her watch as she slid the book she was reviewing back into the shelf, before she extracted a second, this one also on Ancient Egyptian Myth and Legends. Most of what they had reviewed so far was pretty mundane stuff, basic, to say the least, still Pete remained persistent that they would find something here, what exactly remained to be seen. In the meantime there was not much else they could do until Artie finally got back to them.

Pete stretched as he sat in one of the chairs and yawned. "Did you find anything?"

Myka leaned against the desk, and continued to flip through the book, at her partner's remark; she shook her head, "Only what I don't already know from when I took World History in College."

"You know, I've been thinking about something," started Pete. "Helene is still alive, but comatose. You said a canopic jar was one of the missing artifacts, right? What if the organ taker has a cursed jar used for taking body parts? I just haven't figured out the 'why' part of it yet."

"You think the jars are connected, you mean it's how he's choosing his victims?"

"Possibly," started Pete, clearly deep in thought. "I don't know if the victims have so much to deal with it as the perp in this case..."

"So, you think he's starting his own personal collection? Yeah that's definitely creepy."

"No," said Pete. "Not collection."

Myka frowned, "But, what use would he have for the jars then?"

"The jar might only be the tool," said Pete. "I get the feeling that there is more here."

Myka's frown deepened at Pete's remark, and a deep silence filled the air, as the pair contemplated this theory, "Do you think there's another artifact involved? I mean a jar doesn't seem all that malicious, Pete." Myka started slowly, "It's more of a sacred object." 

"I didn't preclude another artifact," said Pete. "I'm saying that the reasoning behind this is more personal than malicious. Personal to the perpetrator."

Before Myka could offer up another theory, a tinny buzzing noise filled the quiet air of the library, near immediately both agents jumped at the noise drawing a few peculiar glances from the other library patrons, and Pete quickly rose up and retrieved the device from his pocket and flicked it open. He and Myka quickly ducked between the shelves. 

"Where are you two?" asked Artie over the monitor. "Is that a library?"

"I thought you told Claudia we would be in a library!" Myka whispered harshly,

"I did!" Pete hissed back through gritted teeth.

"Well obviously you didn't!" Myka remarked, her neck scrunched slightly.

"Oh geez, thanks for pointing that out Captain Obvious!" Pete replied, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, hey! You two keep bickering you'll really draw attention to yourselves!"

"Sorry Artie, what have you got for us?" Pete asked.

"Well, as I said before, those words you told me were Egyptian in origin," started Artie. "I went through our archives to find any mention of related artifacts. Believe me, that was quite the hunt. Anyway, I cross checked that with locations around your area and came up with three. One is an amulet that is used said to have the ability to control others. Presumably a way to show the other souls in the afterlife that you were a king or someone else of importance.

Secondly a canopic jar said to safely hold an organ outside of a body without killing. The story behind it is long, but suffice to say it was a particularly nasty way of maintaining a servant. The last is a ceremonial funerary blade. Its edge is said to be so sharp that it leaves no marks."

Myka stood closer to Pete as a woman stood near the edge of the shelves, some distance away from them both and she spoke softly, "A ceremonial funerary blade, with edges so sharp that it leaves behind no visible marks, that sounds like our artifact alright, and one of the items missing was a canopic jar."

"Items missing?" asked Artie.

Myka's neck scrunched as she glanced in Pete's direction, "I thought you sent Claudia the files!" She whispered harshly.

"Ok, you know I did that!" said Pete. "You told me to stay off your vacation photos folder!"

"Well apparently Artie did not get them,"

"I can still hear you, both of you," Artie's voice drifted out, clearly annoyed.

Myka sighed, "Artie I'll resend the files, hang on a second," After several seconds, Myka spoke up again, "See? Easy, I don't know how you could screw up something so simple, Pete, if you would just read the..."

"I still did not get them," said Artie, exasperation filling his tone. "Did you send them to me or Claudia?"

"I sent them to…" Myka started; somewhere off in the background she heard a familiar female voice call out, "Don't blow a gasket old man! I'll forward the files! God I don't get paid enough…"

Seconds later, Claudia chimed in again cheerfully, "SENT!"

"Sucks when something so simple is screwed up, huh?" asked Pete.

Myka smiled sweetly at Pete, and proceeded to jab her elbow sharply into his side. Pete, having anticipated the move grasped hold of Myka's elbow and pulled her close, ironically enough on the other side of the shelves in front of them, a library patron could be spied on the other side, rifling through the books before them, and the pair froze. Moments later the sound of feet being shuffled could be heard as the individual stepped away and the pair turned their attention back to the Farnsworth.

"That was close," Pete stated as he breathed a sigh of relief, and Myka nodded. "Anyway, those files that Myka just sent you, they tell you anything about our artifact Artie?" He asked quietly as he relaxed his stance, and his hand came to rest on the small of Myka's back. Myka simply leaned back, having decided a casual stance would be the least likely to draw them any unwanted attention from the library's patrons.

"Well, I see the amulet and the canopic jar," started Artie. "I do not see the blade, however. Did you forget to take a picture of it?"

"No, I took pictures of all the items there Artie. There were some mummification tools also reported as stolen; most of them were hooked instruments though, and the only blades I recall seeing had serrated edges, like a saw, or something." Myka replied.

"Hmm, I guess I will have to do the research, as usual," said Artie as he shook his head. "If you two could concentrate and stop acting like you are four years old, that would be helpful to solving this case. Don't you think?"

Myka and Pete looked at each other.

"Well?" said Artie.

"He does kinda have a point ya know?" Pete started mildly.

Myka sighed in defeat, "If we find anything more concrete we'll get back to you, but right now that's all we got," Pete nodded, "Either this guy got the knife somewhere else, or the museum didn't have it, these things have popped up in stranger places right?"

"Make me proud agents," said Artie. 'Be safe."

With that, the Farnsworth went dark and Pete closed it, replacing it back inside his coat.

"Let's see what else we can dig up," said Pete.

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**F.B.I. Field Office**

**1:37 PM**

"What the Hell is that supposed to mean?" asked Doggett.

"Yelling isn't going to help, Special Agent Doggett!" shouted Agent Lawson.

"On assignment in Paris!" said Doggett as he turned and walked away from Lawson. "Bullshit!"

"What, what's going on?" Reyes asked as she watched her partner storm out of the office, "Did you find anything out?"

"The Secret Service is jerking us around, Monica," said John angrily. "Those two agents we saw on camera have been on assignment in Paris for the past week, so _they_ say!"

"That's what the Secret Service told you? They're on an op, in Paris?" She asked as she furrowed her brow in confusion, her expression mirrored her partner's, "No friggin' way." Monica remarked as she stepped away and she shook her head. "Did you tell them about the security cam footage?"

"I thought it best to play that close to the vest until I heard them out," said John. "Sons of bitches."

"Ok, so what now? I mean they're obviously not in Paris." Monica started, "You don't suppose they're syndicate members?"

"I doubt it," said John. "They acted a little too loose for the job description."

"Loose?"

"Ever see one of those guys flirt with someone for information?" asked John as he walked down the hallway.

"I don't know, that woman was pretty uptight," She replied as she followed after John, "Well according to what Marla Galen told me,"

"Jealous," said John flatly. "Let's go grab a steak dinner and a beer. I've had enough of this for today."

"You're more perceptive than I take you for sometimes John," Commented Monica dryly with a shake of her head, "C'mon, let's get this paperwork sorted out then, the sooner we get out of here the better."

Doggett walked down the hall and hung a left towards their borrowed office. Some expense reports and progress report for Kersh needed to be written up and filed. Hopefully it would be a quiet couple of hours; he was not in the mood. When they walked into the office, John removed his coat and tossed it onto the back of his chair. Rolling up his sleeves he began to set up the coffee maker.

Monica stepped inside the office and removed her suit jacket, before she tossed it on the office sofa, and sat down. She stretched as she leaned back against the sofa and tiredly rubbed at her eyes, why did it feel like they were only seeming to get absolutely nowhere with this case? "Better make it a full pot of coffee, feels like it'll be a long day..." Remarked Monica.

"We're out of filters...," said John. "Damn."

"Check the drawer," Monica replied tiredly.

John opened the drawer and found nothing but a stack of paper towels. It was not a coffee filter but it would do. He set up the machine for a full pot and turned it on before going to his chair and sitting down. All this time and no progress. They needed a break and soon or Kersh would write this case off. John leaned back in his chair, his hands interlaced behind his head, his eyes closed.


	15. Chapter 15

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh**

**1:39 PM**

Pete and Myka spent another good two hours at the library, poring over information. The two Warehouse agents were filled with a new sense of determination as they rummaged through the books, intent on finding the answers they desperately sought, and after having gathered together any and all books related to Ancient Egyptian Texts, Myths, and Legends, the pair sought refuge in a quiet, secluded corner of the library, and operating as a unit, worked towards studying the books more closely.

What notes had already been provided to them by Artie was scrawled down onto paper, some of them noteworthy, others not. One by one, they checked off each item, before they formed a list of possibles, deciding a deeper look at the old texts and stories were worth perusing.

Though they knew they were likely searching for a blade, the design and appearance of the item in question was sketchy; was it a knife, a saw, or something even more intricate? Also who was the original possessor of this blade? And just how did it come into the current owner's possession? Did the two share an ancestral connection?

Tiredly, Myka placed the last of the books on the table near them, and closed her journal, before she finally slumped forward and rested her head on the topmost book on her pile. Myka chanced a glance at her watch and sighed, it was well into mid-afternoon, they'd been so lost in their pursuit of information, they themselves had lost track of time.

Myka lifted her head up, and glanced over in Pete's direction, he sat near her, head in hand, an open book in front of him. "Pete?" She whispered softly, and gave his arm a gentle nudge and he mumbled. Myka sighed and shook her head, he probably fell asleep, and she couldn't blame him, her own eyes felt tired, the rate they spent staring at the books the lines of text had a tendency to blur into one.

Rising from her chair, Myka stood behind Pete, her hands came to rest gently on his shoulders and she leaned forward, and pressed a tender kiss to his hair, before she began to apply a gentle pressure to the muscles in his shoulders with her fingers. Pete stirred slightly and Myka smiled, "Snap to Marine," She whispered quietly into his ear.

"Huh?" said Pete as he awoke, hand going for his weapon. He paused for a moment and realized where he was. "Man, Myka..."

Myka smiled as she fought back a chuckle, and she placed a soft kiss to his cheek, "I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier, you wanna get out of here, and grab something to eat?"

"You apologized?" said Pete, rubbing his eyes. "I must still be dreaming. There's just no way..."

Myka smacked his arm and Pete could not help but grin. He closed the book that was in front of him and yawned. Myka gave him a look.

"Okay, I'm sorry," said Pete as he checked his watch. "Just checking. I like the...dinner idea."

Standing, Pete slipped into his coat and then helped Myka with hers. She paused for a moment, wondering what he was doing before she realized. She smiled softly and slipped into her suit jacket.

"You're buying," said Myka, now with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"How did I see that coming...," chuckled Pete.

"That will teach you to be a wise-ass."

"Speaking of which...," said Pete looking down over Myka's shoulder.

"Don't start!" Myka replied, lightly slapping Pete on the cheek.

Pete saw the slight smirk on her face before she turned away and he shook his head. What was it that had come over them? Shrugging, he and Myka made their way out of the library and out to their car. They could discuss their notes over dinner.

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**Café Davio**

**5:17 PM**

Shortly after Pete and Myka left the library, the pair decided to return to their hotel briefly, both to change and scope out possible restaurant locations. Near as long as Pete could remember more often than not they would just grab something and go, often eating on the fly. Sit-down meals together were rarer, more commonplace when they were back at the B&B, and even less commonplace out in the field when on assignment.

Tonight however, Pete figured they could both benefit from a filling meal, and idly as he changed he could not help laugh, if not for the case this could almost be their first real date together.

Hours later, changed and refreshed, the pair opted for a quiet little Italian café, it was cozy, without being chintzy, but also not overpriced. The warm atmosphere allowed them to relax, soak in a brief moment of peace and they ate quietly, occasionally discussing their notes throughout the meal. Though the threat of the artifact still lingered, the pair used this small window of time to clear their minds, focus their thoughts, at the rate they had been studying in the library they risked mental burnout, best to approach the case with a clear head, let it all sink in for now.

Myka pushed her plate away, sighing as she leaned back against the cushions of the small booth. She hiccupped softly and raised a hand to her mouth embarrassedly as she noticed her plate; she'd been hungrier than she had thought. Myka hiccupped again and reached for her glass of water.

"We'll have to work on your dinner conversation, Myka," Chuckled Pete. "What did you think?"

"I didn't think it'd be so good," Myka smiled sheepishly around her glass of water, and she took another long sip, in hopes she'd will the hiccups away.

"Yeah, it was great," Pete commented. "Wonder what they have for dessert?"

"How can you still be hungry?" Another hiccup sounded from Myka and she cursed. Pete shook his head as he smiled at Myka, of all things to have bested her, it was the hiccups.

"Try holding your breath?"

"I tried it once, it never works, also swallowing honey is a lot harder than it seems."

"Kissing is supposed to work."

"I had to ask," She chuckled as she fought back another hiccup, "Did you want to get coff—"

Myka was silenced as her partner drew her close, and he pressed his lips to hers. Myka rested her hand over Pete's heart as she returned the kiss, and his hand drifted from her chin to cup the side of her face. It reminded her of the kiss they had shared earlier that morning, tender, loving, and full of passion, yet this time she didn't push away from it in shock, instead embracing it. After several moments, the pair separated and Pete laid his hand over hers, and smiled softly.

"You were saying?"

"Coffee," Spoke Myka breathlessly, she blushed as she realized something then, she had stopped hiccupping, "I don't believe it, that actually works?"

"Apparently," said Pete with a wink.

Myka chuckled and she reached up to tenderly stroke his cheek, "I'm sorry about this morning," She started slowly, "I-I…no one's ever woken me with a kiss before, not like that."

"Come on," said Pete. "I bet you had guys flocking to you all the time."

"…I won't lie to you; I haven't been with…anyone, not since Denver."

"Whatever happened between you both, it's not my business. But above all, I don't want you to feel like I'm pressuring you into anything, because I won't, that's not my style, and you're too good for that." Pete replied softly kissing her hand.

"I know, I know…" She whispered quietly as she rested her forehead against his, she believed him, every last word.

"So, coffee?" said Pete as he pulled up a separate menu. He was surprised to see that the coffee selection had its own menu entirely separate from everything else. Pete studied over the menu briefly and then handed it to Myka. Most of them were sweet dessert-type coffees made to cater to the coffee-chain crowd.

"Just an espresso," said Myka as she handed the menu back.

The waitress came up to their table with her notepad. "Are you two ready for dessert?"

"Due caffè, per favore," said Pete with a smile. "Graci'."

"Sì il signore," the waitress replied, also smiling. "Un momento."

The waitress walked away and Pete turned back to Myka who was just staring at him.

"What?"

"How is it that you speak Italian like a natural, yet your French is atrocious?"

"Maybe I studied harder at it," said Pete. "It sounds sexier anyway."


	16. Chapter 16

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**Ruth's Chris Steakhouse**

**5:32 PM**

Doggett and Reyes sat at a table across from each other. They had put away their paperwork at the office and then went to the hotel to shower and change. John had decided on a solid black suit with a navy blue shirt and a tie that had a simple angled stripe pattern of navy, black and silver. He wore his silver-metal watch, with the face on the bottom of his wrist.

Monica had gone with her favorite black leather slacks, and jacket, and a red short sleeved top. Few could pull off the look, but it strangely suited her, though it was perhaps pushing appropriate dress as far as the F.B.I. was concerned.

The pair had just finished eating, both of them decided on steak and vegetable dishes, and now split a small pot of coffee between them, though this time they opted for decaf, either way it beat the coffee back at the office, and Monica idly wondered if it was office policy that they had bad coffee available or just plain bad karma.

"This beats that mud back at the office," Monica commented as she drank her coffee.

"You should have been with me in the Marines," said Doggett. "We had some days."

"The food was just as bad as tonight's huh?" She teased, drawing a chuckle from her partner.

"No, then it was SPAM."

Monica laughed, a wide smile on her face, "Is that stuff even considered real meat?"

"Real enough," chuckled John. "I can still make a pretty mean meal out of it."

"You offering to make me dinner when we get back to D.C.? Even if it is Spam burgers?"

"If you don't mind hanging out with an old Marine," said John. "Spam and beer."

"You're on." Monica smiled. Near as long as she could remember, her partner had near always wore a stone-faced expression, leading several agents to speculate as to whether or not John Doggett possessed an actual sense of humor, though rarely observed it did exist, along with a few other traits he occasionally let drift to the surface.

The two agents talked a little more as late afternoon slowly darkened into evening. The two then paid their check and made their way out of the restaurant which sat in downtown Pittsburgh. The lights and activity of the city were still going strong. Rather than go directly to their car, John opted to take a walk around for a few minutes. The night air was good for it.

He liked talking with Monica. There was something different about her than with most people that he met. She had her quirks and had a lot of the same thinking as Mulder, but she had a quality about her. He trusted her. Not something he did very often.

After their brief stroll, the two agents made their way back to their car and started for the hotel. Their conversation had long drifted away from the case and had moved on to other areas. Areas John did not often discuss. It was all very strange, but at least they were feeling relaxed, unlike earlier.

Driving into the parking lot of their hotel, John found a space. The lot was crowded so they had to walk a little ways to the lobby. Still, neither of them cared really. They made their way to the front doors as another couple approached them as well. Without thinking, they bumped into each other as they entered the lobby.

"Sorry pal...," started Doggett before the recognition faded in. "You!"

Myka frowned at the pair standing before them, her green eyes narrowed in confusion as she glanced in Pete's direction, before she glanced back at the pair, "And…you are exactly?"

"F.B.I.," said John sternly. "How was Paris?"

"F.B.I. huh, you got the creds to prove it?" Replied Myka.

"Depends," countered John. "You got viable creds on you?"

"Do you?" retorted Myka, not once flinching under John's gaze.

John returned her gaze with his own icy unbreaking stare.

After an unbearably long silence, Pete and Monica stepped forward, and both withdrew their badges at the same time, and announced their presence simultaneously, ironically it was enough to end the current Mexican standoff between John and Myka.

"So...what's up with the less than warm greeting from our fellow Feds?" asks Pete as he replaced his credentials into his jacket pocket.

"You two are Secret Service? You're just a couple of damned kids." At John's remark, Pete stepped forward, "And you two just crawled out the F.B.I.'s Basement?" Pete asked dryly.

Monica stepped in front of John, and spoke up, "We're conducting an investigation into a series of attacks, what are you doing here?"

"The same thing," said Pete.

"According to the Secret Service, you're both supposed to be in Paris." Observed Doggett, before he added, "Clearly you're not,"

"Lag in the server update," said Pete flatly.

"Why are you here, really?" Questioned Monica.

"That's classified information, why are you here, really?" Asked Myka.

"Classified." Replied Monica and John in unison.

"Clearly we're not going to get anywhere here," started Pete. "Unless we decide to work together or not. Meantime, I just ate and I am ready to hit the hay. C'mon partner."

Myka regarded the pair curiously before she turned away, and followed after Pete, heading in the direction of the elevators. As Myka stepped inside, Pete immediately noticed her neck was scrunched, and he sighed as he scrubbed a hand through his hair.

"I'm not mad at you," Myka remarked as she leaned against the elevator wall, and folded her arms across her chest.

Pete remained dubious, "You're mad about something, our two govt. friends?"

Myka scoffed at his remark, "Rather interrogatory were they not?"

"It's an F.B.I. thing," said Pete. "They get paid to be uptight."

"Sure it's not a Federal thing? Couple a kids my ass, well one anyway."

"Beg pardon?" said Pete, raising an eyebrow.

"Need I remind you, that it was your fault that I got stuck in a mirror, and had a psychotic double running loose, that nearly killed you? You could try for once heeding the warning of a sign that says 'do not touch under any circumstances!'."

"Hey, I'm on your side here, remember?" said Pete.

Myka sighed heavily as the elevators dinged open and they stepped out into the hallway, as they walked in the direction of their room, "I'm sorry, Pete, it's just that we're getting absolutely nowhere with this case, and they come in and walk all over us."

"Hey, maybe they know something we don't?" Pete said. "Can't hurt to see what they've been doing."

"Yeah, great idea, Pete, lets just come right out and tell them we're looking for a cursed jar and an evil knife, are you nuts?" She asked as she stood in front of their room and swiped the cardkey through angrily, she frowned as it blinked red and continued to fiddle with the cardkey as Pete stood nearby.

Pete sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. There was just no talking to her right now. She was in one of her moods. The door finally opened and Myka went inside. Pete declined to go inside and instead went for a different approach.

Long-term guests had a few extra options and Pete decided to exercise one of those. Heading downstairs, Pete went for the sauna area. They had two separate saunas, one for each gender. Pete picked a locker and changed, making sure the locker was secure before he walked away with the key. The sauna was empty as Pete walked in and sat on one of the wooden benches. Here he could hear himself think and actually get a breath in.

Myka closed the door quietly behind her as she stepped inside the room, she hadn't meant to be to so standoffish in the elevator with Pete, but it was the stress of the case that was eating away at her, and the remark that John had made to the pair triggered a nerve without his knowing.

Sighing, Myka sat down on the edge of the bed and moved to lie on her back, and folded her hands across her stomach. They needed to get a break in this case and soon, who knew what long-term exposure to the artifact did to the victim?

Propping herself up on her elbows, Myka heard a knocking sound from outside the room and she frowned, had Pete decided to come back?

Pushing herself up off the bed, Myka cautiously approached the door and peered through the peephole, it was the female F.B.I. agent. She remembered what Pete had told her earlier, and weighed their current options around in her head, and sighed as she opened the door.

"Agent Reyes was it? You come to follow through with your interrogation?" Asked Myka cynically.

Monica bit her lip, "I wanted to apologize for my partner's earlier remarks, he can be, rather standoffish, to put it lightly."

"Look, I don't want to turn this into an interagency warfare. All I know is we're both here to conduct an investigation, you've got your reasons we've got ours, but our goal is the same, to get this case solved, and either we can continue have a stare down like we did in the lobby, or we cut the cloak and dagger bullshit, and try to solve this thing, agreed?" Stated Monica, and Myka sighed, Pete's word echoing inside her head, she had a point.

"Agreed, come on in, mind the mess." Myka stated, and she stepped back, and allowed the other agent entry into the room, she couldn't even begin to think of where to start.


	17. Chapter 17

Pete gathered his belongings from the locker after he had redressed. The steam was relaxing, but it definitely left him with an urge to cool down. Making sure that he had everything, Pete left the locker area and went to the hotel's restaurant and ordered a large, cold root beer. When it came moments later in a frosted glass, Pete smiled and then walked out to the restaurant's patio area.

The night air was cool and worked well with him and the root beer. Pete was about to relax when he saw the male F.B.I. agent from earlier sitting alone at a table with a cola. Pete sighed heavily and was about to leave when he took another look at the guy.

The F.B.I. agent had not moved and simply stared off into the night. The drink was relatively untouched as well. Clearly something had not gone well between him and maybe his partner. Pete knew all too well how he and Myka had their issues. Hell, did they not just have one which is why he was here now? Shaking his head, Pete walked over to the table where the F.B.I. agent sat.

"Pete Lattimer," he started, extending his hand. "Secret Service."

"John Doggett," John replied after a moment, shaking Pete's hand. "F.B.I."

"Partner troubles?" asked Pete.

"Yup."

"Tough," nodded Pete. "There right now with you."

John did not reply, but he did pick up and sip at his drink. Pete did the same and they both stared out into the night for some time. Both men had the same look in their eyes as they watched the darkness. Both had seen and confronted things there that nobody should ever have to see.

"No hard feelings, by the way," said Pete. "I get the suspicion thing."

"Thanks," said Doggett flatly.

"What I said earlier is true," said Pete.

"What's that?"

"You know, about not getting anywhere working against each other."

"Mm."

"We got classified stuff, you got classified stuff," started Pete. "Doesn't mean we can't work together. More minds and eyes we got on this thing, the better."

Doggett sipped at his drink and another long silence ensued between the two men as they sat there on the patio. A group of four people came out onto the patio, talking and laughing as they found a table for themselves. Doggett set his glass down on the metal table.

"Probably could wrap it up faster if we worked together."

"Probably," said Pete.

"Couldn't hurt," said John after a few moments.

"Cool."

* * *

"So, let me see if I got all this right, you and your partner procure ancient cursed objects?"

"They're not always ancient; sometimes it can be something as simple as say that lamp over there." Myka replied, gesturing at the lamp that sat atop the entertainment center. Monica looked from the lamp to Myka, and back again to Myka, her own expression one of baffled amusement.

"You're kidding right, a lamp?" Monica replied, and she spoke again, having noticed the other woman's expression remained unchanged, "You're not are you?"

Myka sighed as she stood up, and walked over to the small kitchen area of the room, "Oh believe me, I wish I was." She smiled slightly as she spied a bag of butterscotch cookies, and automatically reached for it, and pulled it open. Bag in hand she moved to sit back down on the edge of the bed, and offered the bag to Monica before she reached inside and proceed to extract a cookie.

"So how long have you and Agent Lattimer been partners?" Myka froze and eyed the cookie in her hand, the sugary treat suddenly appeared less appetizing, and she sighed before she dropped it back inside the bag, which she then promptly closed. Monica frowned as she bit into her own cookie, and smiled apologetically as the other woman looked up, "I only asked out of curiosity, I'm sorry if I—" She started, wondering if she offended the other agent.

"No, it's ok, we've been together now for 8 months, I mean we've been working together for 8 months." Replied Myka, her hand fidgeted with the bag she held in her hands, idly rolling, and unrolling the wrapper. A tense silence filled the air, neither woman saying anything, and Monica was beginning to suspect that John's earlier comment had really hit a nerve with the pair, the woman sitting before her seemed tense, almost morose, a strange contrast to the cool persona she had observed in the lobby.

"You seem like you've been partners longer then that, almost as long as me and my partner." Spoke Monica at long last.

"I can't help but feel that we're still just starting to understand each other you know? And sometimes I don't." Replied Myka as she stared back down at the bag of cookies that rested in her lap. Yup, John definitely hit a nerve.

"Anyway, Agent Bering…"

"You can address me as Myka, it's no big deal, we work together as often as it is that formalities ran off out the window." Myka smiled embarrassedly; Monica shrugged and returned the smile. Showing that they were on a first name basis established a form of trust, and since she had extended the olive branch…

"Monica's fine," She smiled. The pair looked up as the sound of the door opening was heard, and the other previously absentee Warehouse agent greeted them as he stepped inside. Pete paused, glancing between the pair cautiously, before he finally spoke up.

"Did I come at a bad time?"

Monica rose to her feet, as did Myka. "I was just about to leave, I'm sure you both must be exhausted." Monica smiled at Myka, "Myka, you have my cell number if you need to contact me or my partner."

Myka nodded and smiled, "Sure, if we find out anything else we'll let you know right away, goodnight Monica." She smiled knowingly at Pete as she made her exit, "Pete."

"What happened?" said Pete.

"She came to me actually and apologized, we both came to an agreement that it'd be better if we worked together," Myka started.

"Still vague?"

"Actually she came right out and told me why_ they're_ here,"

"Wow," Pete replied. "And what is that?"

"From what she tells me it sounds like there's a lot more to it than just crop circles and…cattle probing," Myka cringed as the words left her mouth, still quite unable to believe that Area 51 wasn't a myth. "I think it's safe to say we're not the only ones out there with odd jobs tied to our government."

"And you told her...?"

"I explained our _situation_ as best as I could," Replied Myka, and she smiled nervously.

"And how did _that_ go?" asked Pete.

"She seemed skeptical at first, but she was not willing to rule it out as a possibility, in fact she told me she has a background in investigating occultist crimes and satanic rituals. If I didn't know better I'd say she was fascinated by the idea that an Ancient Egyptian artifact could be the cause of all this."

"Seems like a real charmer at parties."

Myka reached across the bed and picked up her journal and flipped it open, as Pete sat down next to her on the bed. "She told me that they visited the victim's friend, a woman named Veronica O'Donel. Anyway, Veronica claimed that about a week or so prior to Helene's attack she came into possession of a canopic jar she won through an auction."

"That jar keeps popping up," Commented Pete. "What do you think of it?"

"I don't know, but it could be worth looking into, I told her that we went to the museum and they reported several artifacts as missing, what if the jar that Helene owned is the one we're looking for?" Myka shook her head, "No, wait that can't be right, if that was the case just being in possession of the artifact should have affected her, right?" She asked.

"Not necessarily," said Pete. "Artifacts sometimes work in groups. Are those my cookies?"

"I didn't eat any," She replied as she gave him the bag of relatively untouched cookies back, and she blushed as she pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, before she rose from the bed, "I should probably get changed for bed," She stated quietly as she walked over to the dresser.

"Myka...," started Pete.

"What?" Myka stopped, and turned around slowly as she came face-to-face with her partner, and he pulled her close, and pressed a gentle kiss to her hair.

"Pete?"

"I'm sorry," said Pete. "Sorry for what I have done to you. You're right, I wasn't thinking."

"You're apologizing?" She started in confusion as she pulled back; if anyone should be apologizing she figured it should be her for having given him the third degree in the elevator earlier.

"What happened...with the mirror," started Pete slowly. "It scared me, Myka. For so long I treated the mirror as a way of amusement, you know? And then I almost lost you to it. It was something that I could not bear to admit, even to myself. Believe me when I tell you, it has been constantly on my mind. Constantly..."

Pete turned slowly away from her and moved to sit down on the bed. He felt exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally. Between the case, the confusion and his relationship with Myka taking new and unexpected turns. This coupled with his unburdening brought Pete to a new level of worn out.

He lay back on the bed quietly.

Myka stood stock-still, unmoving, her mind still taking in what her partner had just told her. Though neither had said anything, Myka had her suspicions when she was freed from the mirror. That little casual half wave he threw her way appeared less like a greeting, and more apologetic in nature, and now she could see that he regretted having ever fooled around with the mirror in the first place, and she wondered all the more just what Alice had done, during her brief moment of freedom.

Kicking off her shoes, Myka lay down on the bed next to Pete, and draped an arm over his waist, before she moved closer to rest her head on his chest, and very gently she took his hand in hers, and said nothing, her actions alone stated that she had accepted his apology.

Pete turned and looked at Myka.

Myka stared into his eyes, and very softly kissed his hand, and snuggled closer.

"Myka...I..."

"You don't have to say anything," She stated, propping herself up on her forearms, as she leaned over him, and dipped her head low as she softly kissed his eyelids, and the tip of his nose, before she leaned down to softly kiss his lips. She could not help the tears that fell from her eyes as she placed each kiss. Pete pulled back, and gently traced his thumbs across her cheeks.

"What is it, Myka?" asked Pete, confusion and concern in his tone.

"For the first time, I think I know now what it means to truly be in love…," Myka started slowly, her voice was shaky as she spoke, "…and it scares me, because, because…"

"Because why?"

"I think I'm falling for you, and as much as I try not admitting it, I know I am, and that's what scares me," She stated quietly,

"Don't be scared," said Pete as he moved in to kiss her. "I'm falling with you."

Myka returned his kiss adoringly, and she made no objections when he rolled onto his side, pinning her beneath him as they lost each other in the intensity of the kiss, she in turn instead responded by threading her hands through his hair, deepening the kiss further. Pete was the first to break off the kiss, and he sighed as he rested his head near her throat, and placed several soft kisses against the skin, trailing up along her jawline before his lips found Myka's again.

"Where are we, Myka?" asked Pete quietly, still seeing tears in her eyes.

"For now, just hold me, hold me and don't let go," She whispered as she buried herself into his arms, she sighed as he complied, and cradled her body next to his.

"You know I'm always here for you."

"Always?" Myka whispered, and Pete pulled back to softly kiss away her tears. He hated to see her cry, and the sight ate at his heart, he knew that the tears that fell were not likely of his doing, but rather events past. He imagined that was what had truly scared her; if she gained his love, would she be forced to endure it all again?

"Always." He replied softly, and he pulled her form protectively to his, and softly pressed a kiss to her hair. There was no sure way of knowing what the future held for either of them, especially in their line of work, but if there was one thing he did know, he knew she would never let it come to that, ever again.

* * *

Monica shook her head as she spied John already camped out on their floor, back in their room.

"Are you trying to impress me or throw your back out?" She asked as she walked over to the dresser to retrieve her sleepwear for the night.

"Did this for many years on worse terrain," said John. "Why'd you leave?"

"I felt an apology was in order, that's why, and besides you know and I know if we turn this into a pissing contest we we're bound to get absolutely nowhere, John." Monica retorted as she stepped into the bathroom, she closed the door behind her, leaving it slightly ajar.

"Ok," John replied. "How'd it go?"

Monica exited from the bathroom, dressed in a pair of black silk pajama pants, and a matching silk tank-top. She threw back the bedcovers and climbed in, and turned on her side, pulling the cover back over her halfway. Monica sighed, and she tucked a pillow under her head, "We traded notes and discussed the case, and it sounds like that the jar is definitely involved in all of this."

"How is that?" asked John. "Revenge from another bidder?"

"You're not going to like this, but she believes the jar is the reason for Helene's current condition."

"How's that?"

Sitting up straight in bed, Monica gestured with her hands as she spoke, "In a nutshell, the jar is cursed, and she claims it is the reason why she is lying in a coma right now, completely helpless."

"Seriously..."

"That's what she told me! This thing, this jar, it's responsible for her current condition! And get this it can be any, ordinary, everyday object, like say a pen even! And, and you're not buying any of this are you?" She stopped speaking, having noticed her partner's skeptical expression.

"No friggin' way."

"Did you and Pete discuss any of this?" She asked, her own expression now confused.

"This stuff?"

"Yeah, well did you?" She replied slowly.

"Not really," said John. "We kept it a little more...realistic?"

Monica sighed, and ran a hand through her dark locks. She had a feeling he'd be the least likely of the pair to buy into all of this, even after all the things he had seen and experienced working on The X-Files, John was still a skeptic at heart, a by the books cop. He preferred hard evidence as opposed to random hypotheses. She on the other hand, she possessed her own skepticisms, but she was not willing to rule out paranormal possibilities, so quickly. Even still, all this was a lot take in, skeptic or believer.

"You know what, we can wait till morning, and they can explain how all this works then, it's really quite fascinating," Monica stared off into space briefly, still fascinated by what Myka had told her earlier, and all this time she thought the cases that she and John had investigated were unusual.

After several moments, Monica spoke up, "John you don't have to sleep on the floor; it's a king-sized bed, I have room to spare here." She stated, as she tried to fight back a smile, she already had a feeling what his answer would be, why he insisted on being so stubborn she would never know.

"I'm aces."

Monica fell back against the bed and sighed, before she turned to look back in her partner's direction. "No wonder you're in a sour mood," She started with a shake of her head, before she continued, "Your back's going to be killing you come tomorrow if you sleep down there again, now get up here!" She retorted as she threw the covers back, and she moved over to the far side of the opposite end of the bed where she chose to set up camp for the night. When she received no reply, Monica glanced over her shoulder, and sighed.

"John, c'mon, I don't bite. What do you want me to do, set up a damned divider?" She asked, a slight smile pulled at her lips, even though her tone carried notes of exasperation. On one hand she was glad to see chivalry was not dead, but even still she had felt bad for forcing him to sleep on the floor, and what was more she wagered it had to be uncomfortable.

"Just keep your hands to yourself," said John, his tone perhaps teasing.

"Goodnight John," She replied softly as she heard him get in the opposite side of the bed, she barely registered the weight shift on the mattress and sighed, and closed her eyes.

"Yeah, you too."


	18. Chapter 18

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**Budget Hotel, Room 1121**

**5:16 AM**

Monica stirred as she heard a series of sharp knocks sound outside the door, and she glanced at the alarm clock, taking note of the time before she moved to get out of bed. She sighed as she registered a pair of strong, warm arms cradling her protectively, and she smiled sleepily.

"Turn off the clock," said John and then he paused. "...um..."

Her eyes shot open, as she recognized the voice as the one that belonged to her partner, and she froze as he suddenly realized that he had woken up with his partner in his arms.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself, umm…you want to get the door or should I?" She asked, blushing.

"I can get it..."

"Ok, can I get up now?"

"You bet."

Monica all but stumbled as she got out of bed, and she walked over to the kitchen area of the room, and proceeded to make a pot of coffee, as John answered the door.

John rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he walked towards the door. Running a hand through his hair, he opened the door and spied the two Secret Service agents standing there. Their faces looked to be carved from stone. He had seen that look a thousand times. He invited them in.

"She died," said John.

"Did you get a call?" asked Myka.

"No," said John. "I've seen that expression and worn it enough times."

Myka nodded as they all walked over to the kitchen. "Happened around midnight. Her vitals just...stopped."

"So now it's...stranger," said John. "I know a guy who won't want to hear this."

"Kersh is going to be absolutely thrilled," Muttered Monica as she retrieved some coffee mugs from the cabinet, and she methodically poured them each a cup. She turned to John and handed him a mug, before she fixed herself a cup and passed the other two to the two Warehouse agents.

"What makes this worse is now we're hunting a killer."

"Yeah, but who's behind it?" Commented Monica. Quietly she gazed down into her coffee, as though attempting to will the answers she sought from beneath the dark liquid's surface. So many questions and so few answers.

The group drank their coffees in quite contemplation, the weight of the morning's news hung heavily on their shoulders, what awaited them next?

"Well, we best get out there."

"Yeah, meet you down in the lobby in 30?"

"Sure, and we'll decide where we should go from there," Pete replied.

"Right," said John.

John led the pair out, and from behind him, he heard his partner as she sighed out in exasperation. He imagined she was going over in her mind as to just how exactly their supervisor, A.D. Kersh was going to take this news when it hit, and he couldn't blame her. The guy thrived on perfectionism; at times it was almost sickening.

Doggett closed the door behind the two Secret Service agents and then returned to the kitchen area. There he found a very fatigued looking partner staring at a cell phone on the counter.

"So, do you want to make the call, or should I?" Monica asked as she drained the last of her coffee.

"I'll do it."

"Suit yourself, I'm going to take a shower," She stated tiredly as she walked over to the dresser and retrieved a set of clean clothes while John walked over to the phone.

"Don't fall asleep."

"If I do, you can come in and drag me out," She stated slightly in jest as she walked past him, and she disappeared into the bathroom, as he begun to dial out, connecting first with the operator.

John dialed the number for Assistant Director Kersh into his cell phone. This was not a call that he enjoyed making. The man was obnoxious and self-important. Still, it was protocol and it had to be done. After two rings the phone picked up on the other end.

"Special Agent John Doggett," he started. "A.D. Kersh, please. Yes, I'll hold."

John walked over to the room's window and looked out. A parking lot. This morning was not beginning at all well. The day did not show any signs of improvement either. Then another voice came on the line.

"Assistant Director," said John. "There is an update."

* * *

Down in the lobby of the hotel, Agents Lattimer and Bering waited. They each had a cup of coffee, but only Pete was looking anywhere near relaxed. He sifted through the articles in the morning newspaper as they sat on the sofas near the door. Nothing jumped out at him.

"You know," started Pete. "I think I am missing a page here..."

"Sure you're not reading the funny pages?"

"Just seeing what's been happening in the city, Myka," said Pete. "Be cool."

"I am anything but cool right now; in fact I am quite the contrary." Replied Myka.

"Yeah, I get that," he remarked. "What good is stressing going to do for her now? We need to find this guy and we can't do that with you being irritable and jumpy!"

"Be cool? Be cool, he says?" Stated Myka, her tone almost mocking in nature. "How can I be cool, knowing that this psychopath is still out there, running around with a life-force draining jar, and we're still sitting here unable to do absolutely anything about it?" Myka sighed, holding her head in her hands. The news she and Pete received this morning from Artie was the absolute last thing either one of them wanted to hear, and he knew it scared her. Hell it scared him.

"Look, I'm sorry I yelled," said Pete as he ran his fingers through Myka's hair. "I didn't mean to. I am trying to state the point that cooler heads will prevail here? Ok?"

"You're right," She sighed as she leaned her head against his shoulder, and she took his hand in hers, as she spoke again, more softly this time, "It's just I can't help feeling that if we had more info, we could have done more, we could have helped that woman, and now she's dead."

"Now we just need to make sure that it doesn't happen again," said Pete quietly.

**5:47 AM**

Doggett and Reyes joined the other two federal agents down in the lobby. Doggett's expression could have been cut from stone. Kersh was running low on patience and had suggested that he might terminate the investigation now that another agency was following it. They did not have too much longer.

"You two ready?" asked Doggett.

"Ready if you are." Replied Myka.

"Ok, let's review what we know," Doggett said. "We must have missed something."

"Breakfast nook then," said Pete. "You guys grab a table, I am going to try and find an intact morning paper."

"You gonna be gone long?" Asked Reyes as she threw a glance at her watch.

"It'll just be a few minutes."

Pete walked off and exited the lobby to look for a newspaper dispenser. He found two, a city and a county paper dispenser. Smiling, he walked up to them and put in the proper coinage. He pulled the paper out and dropped it on top of the dispenser. As he closed the door, he glanced at the front page and his blood froze.

Another attack last night?

Pete studied the article and then turned and bought a paper from the county dispenser and found they had an article on it as well.

"Crap...," he muttered under his breath.

He took both papers and turned and ran back to the hotel. He walked in through the lobby and went straight for Myka. He put the two papers down in front of her, covering up the muffin she was about to eat.

"We have more information."

Myka picked up the one paper and studied it closely, her eyes widened as she read the article, "Oh God, it's the woman from the hospital, the receptionist, Marla Galen!" Reyes remarked as she studied the other newspaper and read over the article.

"You sure?" asked Doggett.

"There's no name given, but she fits the description, age 29, red-haired female Caucasian, med student, and according to this it says she was attacked just outside UPMC Mercy Hospital's parking lot. We both had contact with her, what are the odds it can't be her?" Stated Reyes.

"I think we should look into it, Myka," said Pete.

"We'll go look at this from the local P.D. standpoint," said Doggett. "Get a copy of the file. See what you can do about the medical report."

"Right," said Pete. "We can check the crime scene there as well."

"Agreed, lets get a move on then." Stated Monica.

The four agents got up from the table and exited the hotel almost walking in step with each other. At the parking lot they began to disperse to their cars. That was when Pete stopped the group.

"What, what's wrong?" Asked Monica.

"An idea," said Pete. "We should pair off."

"We are, Pete?" said Myka, her tone implying a loss of patience.

"No, I mean change partners," said Pete. "That way each team can work both...aspects of the case simultaneously."

"Makes sense," said John. "I guess. Let's do it. We're on the clock."

Doggett made his way towards his rental.

"I'll go with Pete; we'll meet up with you both later."

"Are you sure?" Asked Myka.

"I'm sure he won't be any trouble…," Started Monica slowly as she cast a glance in Pete's direction, and turned to face him. "…right?" She asked him, her expression dead serious. Monica only smiled as he winked at her almost conspiratorially, and he nodded back at Myka.

"Long as you like strong coffee, we're good," said Doggett.

Myka could not help but smile. Oh if Monica only knew what she had just stepped into partnering up with Pete. "Alright, take care guys, we'll catch you later."

"Be safe guys," said Pete.

"So," Started Monica slowly as she turned to face her new partner, "You want to drive or should I?"

Pete raised his eyebrows and let his sunglasses slip from the top of his head down to cover his eyes and smiled. "I'll drive."

Monica chuckled; idly she couldn't help but be reminded of a certain UFO chasing F.B.I. agent. "Where to first, Pete?" She asked as they walked in the direction of the car.

"I figured we'll check the scene outside of the hospital first," said Pete. "Then go and talk to Doctor Julien or whoever is in charge of Ms. Galen's case."

"Alright, good plan." Replied Monica as they got into the car, she spoke up again as Pete started the engine, and began pulling out of the hotel parking lot, "Shame that this had to happen to her, she seems like such a nice lady, little on the quiet side but nice. You did seem to make quite the impression on her, and your partner that day."

"Yeah, I feel badly about it actually," said Pete. "I am hoping that my, uh, facilitation of information that day did not put her in the perpetrator's crosshairs."

"There's no way of knowing if anyone at the hospital is even involved, you were just there to conduct the investigation, and Marla, she just happened to be working the front desk." Stated Monica softly. She could sense he was at unease, perhaps even regretting that he charmed his way through the attractive red-headed receptionist to get information, only to in turn have painted a bull's-eye directly on her.

Pete was quiet for some time after he spoke of Marla Galen. He did feel bad about it now. It was just a little harmless flirting to ease her tensions and grease the wheels, as it were. If it was his fault that she was harmed, he did not know what to do. Maybe Myka was right. Maybe he was irresponsible?


	19. Chapter 19

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**En-route to local P.D.**

**6:12 AM**

In the other car, Doggett was behind the wheel and heading towards the precinct handling the case. With a second attack, maybe now they would start being more careful in collecting information from the scene. Maybe they could pull a few clues that would lead them to their perp.

John had been more or less quiet since they had left the hotel parking lot. He tuned the radio to the local station to catch weather and traffic reports.

Myka glanced over in John's direction briefly, unsure as to whether or not an attempt to strike up conversation would be a good idea. For some strange reason she now suddenly wondered if it was a good thing or a bad thing that Pete refrained from going into depth about their line of work. She decided to try a different approach instead.

"Cattle probes, really?"

"Huh?"

"The government really takes all that stuff seriously enough to have devoted a sole division to it?" She asked. To be honest, she was baffled by what it was that even prompted the division's creation. What interest could the government possibly have in UFOs and little green men? It sounded more like money being senselessly thrown down the toilet to her; it was almost as though they had taken the movie Independence Day as a warning sign.

"That's not what we do," said John. "All that alien crap."

"So what do you do exactly?" Asked Myka.

"I'm a detective," said John. "I don't wear tinfoil hats and fight lizard men."

Myka only frowned at his reply.

"Lizard men? Really?"

"Seen some weird things," Doggett said, his tone slightly agitated. "There again I've seen a guy on PCP break through a windshield with his face and keep running only to find him dead seven hours later of a broken neck. Life is full of strange things. Doesn't mean they're pawns of little green men."

"Doesn't sound that way from what your partner told me," Replied Myka.

"Monica has her own view on things."

"How did you even find your way into The X-Files Division?" At his icy glance, she only shrugged. "I'm just asking that's all, you sound like you seem…skeptical of…all this." She stated with a gesture of her hands.

"I was called in to find another agent who had disappeared," he said. "How about you?"

"You could say that Pete and I were…handpicked for a lack of better words."

"And what do you people do?" he asked. "Fight evil flying lamps?"

"You would be surprised at what I've seen Agent Doggett. Lets just say for instance I now have a ferret as a pet that or more or less just happened to quite literally fall into my possession."

Doggett remained silent as they drove.

"You know the legend about Aladdin's Magic Lamp?"

"Mm," said Doggett. "What about it?"

"Lets just say wishes don't always come true."

"Isn't that a fact."

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**UPMC Mercy Hospital, Parking Lot**

**6:28 AM**

Pete pulled into the parking lot and found a decent space. He and Agent Monica Reyes exited the car and made their way through the cars to the spot where Marla Galen was attacked. It was still sectioned off by yellow and black police crime scene tape.

"Do you expect that we'll find anything?" asked Pete.

"I doubt it, John and I didn't find much at the first scene, either way we'll work with what we have, c'mon."

The two examined the crime scene and some yards beyond around the area. Their search proved fruitless, however. Nothing out of the ordinary was found so they decided to go and see Marla Galen inside the hospital and wait to see the police report on the scene. Slipping their shades back on, the two agents made their way across the parking lot and back to the hospital.

They walked inside and approached the receptionist, showing her their badges.

"Special Agents Pete Lattimer and Monica Reyes of the Secret Service and F.B.I., respectively."

"What can I do for you?"

"We would like to see a patient of yours, Marla Galen," started Pete. "As well as the doctor in charge of her case."

"Um, what is this in reference to?"

"A prior case," said Pete. "Helene Stillwater? What is Ms. Galen's room number? We'll wait for the doctor there."

"Oh, poor Helene," said the receptionist. "That was terrible. Creepy. Marla is in room number four-oh-three."

"Thank you, wait a minute…" Monica paused as she and Pete exchanged glances.

"You called her Marla," said Pete. "Do you know her?"

"Um, a little?" she started. "We ate lunch together and went shopping and to the movies once or twice. She's nice, but my schedule changed with school and we couldn't hang out as much."

"Did you talk with her recently?"

"Some?"

"Here's my card," said Pete as he reached into his jacket pocket. "Think over what you two talked about and give me a call if you think of anything. Anything at all."

"No matter how small or insignificant you may think it is," started Monica. "It could be important."

"Okay."

"What's your name?" asked Pete.

"Jocelyn," the receptionist started. "Jocelyn Fern."

"Thank you for your help, Ms. Fern," said Pete.

"Just Jocelyn, please," she said. "Ms. Fern makes me sound old."

Smiling, Pete and Monica went to the elevator and selected the button for the fourth floor. As the door closed, the smile faded from Pete's face. He stared hard at the fourth floor button of the elevator, as if he was seeing through it.

"Pete, are you feeling alright?" Asked Monica, suddenly getting the feeling that he was ill at ease.

"I don't know." said Pete. "Just...got a feeling is all."

Monica raised an eyebrow slightly at his statement, "A feeling?"

"I don't know, when she said the room number, it was just odd," he started. "Four-oh-three. Helene Stillwater was in four-oh-two."

Monica frowned, as someone who was well versed in numerology she had to admit that she did find that fact rather… "Spooky. You think there's a connection?" She asked.

"It makes me want to look into the history of room four-oh-one."

"You thinking the room's previous occupant is next on the list?"

"No," said Pete. "First."

At that moment the elevator drew to a halt and the doors dinged open. Monica touched a hand softly to Pete's arm and nodded at him, before they stepped out onto the fourth floor together. What if she was right, what if he was right, what if the rooms were somehow mysteriously connected, and not just their occupants?

Pete walked towards the check-in desk on this floor, his credentials in hand. He showed them to the woman at the desk who nodded. "Jocelyn called from downstairs, go on in."

The two agents made their way down the hall to room four-oh-three. The door was closed and Pete looked through the small vertical window of the door at Marla Galen's face. Sighing slightly to himself, he opened the door and walked inside, Monica following behind him.

Silently Monica stepped towards the edge of Marla Galen's bed and grabbed her chart as Pete sat down in one of the empty chairs in the room. Monica was no doubt certain that he was currently in another frame of thought, his expression appeared as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders as he sat, resting his chin on his steepled hands.

Staring hard at Marla Galen, Pete's thoughts bucked and crashed like an ocean against a cliff face. Violent, always moving, ebbing and flowing and so loud that their collective sound almost gave him a headache. They were missing something crucial here. Something that would break this case open wide and expose the oozing evil beneath the surface.

A thought. Pete grabbed his cell phone and hit the speed dial button assigned to his partner, Myka. The phone rang three times and she picked up.

"Myka."

"Myka, it's Pete," he started. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"I need you to stop by the library again," he started. "Yeah, I know. It sucks. I'm sorry. I need you on this though, Myka."

Pete could hear his partner sigh on the other end of the line, "Pete, we spent nearly three plus hours there yesterday, we were lucky we found anything, what more could you possibly expect me to find there today?"

"I know this sounds weird," said Pete. "But I need you to check back...say...up to three months before Helene Stillsen. I need you to see if there was another case with a similar M.O."

"Now you're freaking me out, it's like you expect me _to_ _find_ _something_, did you just have another vibe?" She asked worriedly.

"Call it a hunch...," said Pete, looking up as he heard the door of the room start to open. "Gotta go."

Hanging up the phone, Pete saw as Doctor Julien entered the room, closing the door behind him. Pete kept an expressionless face as the man entered. Monica, however, looked briefly at Pete and he could tell she sensed what he was thinking.

"Doctor Julien," said Pete. "Special Agent Reyes, F.B.I."

Doctor Julien nodded, his face looking pale and ashen as he walked in. He looked as if he had been running a marathon or had a fought with a stomach virus and had spent hours throwing up. He held up a hand at the two as he stood for a moment to catch his breath. When he finally began pulling himself back together, he spoke.

"New exercise regimen," he said. "And some new medication."

"For?" asked Reyes.

"High blood pressure," said Julien. "Job stress."

"I bet," said Pete quietly.


	20. Chapter 20

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh**

**7:55 AM**

A brief stop at the local P.D., and then it was off to the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh for Agents Bering and Doggett. Myka wasn't certain what it was her partner had expected her to find, but if there was one thing she had learned from working with him it was to always trust your gut, or in this case his. Pete's vibes had yet to fail him since, and as she rifled through old newspaper articles, part of her wondered if he could have predicted the sudden turn the case had taken, or for that matter their relationship.

So much had happened in such a short span of time. Not just here on this case, but also between them back in New Orleans. Where would they be upon their return to their home? And to the Warehouse?

"So your partner thinks we may have a serial that slipped through the cracks?" asked Doggett. "You think he's on to something?"

"Lets just say that man gives the term 'gut instinct' a whole new meaning." Replied Myka as she looked up, she thanked John as he handed her a tall, paper cup of coffee.

"Anything in it?"

"Black coffee is fine," She smiled.

"A woman after my own heart."

John sat down at another computer and began to examine newspapers from four months ago. Myka was starting from roughly a day prior to Helene Stillsen's attack and working backwards. She and Doggett would eventually meet in the middle.

Doggett sipped at his coffee as he examined the images of the newspapers. Nothing jumped out at him in particular. A few road accidents and some robberies, but nothing major. Still, Myka seemed to think there was something going on. If nothing else, they had a copy of the police report.

"Hey, I think I found something here," Myka spoke up at long last, drawing John's attention. She shifted to the side allowing Doggett to move in for a closer look, and she gestured to the screen before her as she pointed out the article in question that had grasped her attention.

"Found in a parking garage," said Doggett. "No outward trauma. Coma. Died a week and a half later."

"This all sounds eerily familiar, doesn't it?"

"Very."

"It doesn't make sense, why would they suddenly stop?"

"How do you figure?"

"Canopic jars usually come in sets of four, what if there's another jar out there? What if there are three other jars, only they haven't been found yet?" She asked as she cast a glance in his direction, a sick feeling of dread filled the pit of Myka's stomach at the thought. What if there really were three other jars? And what if they too were being used for evil? One alone was damaging enough, as evidenced by what they had witnessed.

"Let's get copies of these and meet up with Monica and Pete," said Doggett. 

The pair printed out copies of the article, before they then proceeded to depart from the library. Myka dug around inside her purse, as they walked back towards the car, and as Doggett unlocked the doors, Myka pulled out the Farnsworth. Why for once she had gotten stuck with the device was beyond her. As far as Pete was concerned he was Captain Kirk and she was T'Pol. Of all things he never expected her to argue about was how such a union could never be possible, even with the aid of parallel universes, and that was when his opinion shifted; forget Kirk, he was Archer, to which she argued if he was any member of that particular crew, he was the hotshot security chief who also had a potential to leap headfirst into danger, with or without weapons.

"Hello?" came a voice from the Farnsworth.

"Artie it's Myka. Listen, I need you to look into an unsolved serial murder from two months back. There may or may not have been a jar involved; we believe the current case may be connected."

"What the Hell is that?" asked John as they got into the car.

"It's a communications device, a very old school, yet very high-tech, communications device." She replied as she cast a glance briefly in his direction, and she made a lame gesture with her free hand as she spoke, "It operates using a series of…"

"Did Pete have a memory lapse?" asked Artie. "To whom are you speaking?"

"Sorry Artie, that was just John," Myka replied quickly.

"John?"

"He's one of the two F.B.I. agents, from The X-Files Division. His partner is with Pete now."

"Oh?" said Artie. "Pray tell."

"We decided to work the case together; apparently it's not all crop circles and cattle probes after all."

"Mm, ok," Artie replied. "So about this other victim...you think it's connected? Maybe another canopic jar?"

"Lets just say I had a vibe of my own." Myka paled; did she just say what she thought she said?

Artie did not reply. She could see the side of his face as he worked busily at his computer, looking over the files she sent and doing some more investigation. After a few moments Artie rubbed his chin.

"Hmm."

Good grief, Pete was starting to rub off on her.

"How many of those cursed ancient canopic jars are known to be in existence?"

"Six...possibly eight."

"How sure are you?"

"About sixty-three point four percent," said Artie, still looking at the computer.

"Artie, I'm not kidding, I need to know if there's any more of these things floating around out there! The sooner the better!" Replied Myka.

"I'll do some more checking," said Artie. "This isn't like looking up the latest Lady Gaga song, you know. I'll get back to you."

Artie clicked off his Farnsworth and the screen went dark. Myka closed hers and put it away in her bag. It was then she realized that the car had not moved and that John was sitting there looking at her with a questioning glance.

"Let me explain...," she started.


	21. Chapter 21

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**UPMC Mercy Hospital, Room 403**

**8:30 AM**

"I don't understand this case any better than the last one," said Doctor Julien. "Ms. Stillsen offered no clues as to her condition."

"How did you get this case?" asked Monica.

"It was assigned to me," Julien said. "Because I had the last one."

"So what are you doing for her?" asked Pete.

"Treatment of patients is under patient confidentiality," Doctor Julien replied flatly.

"Not when it's part of a federal investigation into suspicious circumstances," Pete countered. "This is the second one we know of in five weeks."

"Look, let me clear it with the hospital," Julien said quietly. "I'll see what I can do to help you."

"You have a cell phone on you then?" asked Monica.

"Yes, of course."

"Use it then," said Pete. "We'll wait. Monica I'll be right outside. Have to make a call."

"Right."

Pete stepped outside of the room, leaving the door cracked open a bit so he could hear what happened inside the room. Julien was dialing his phone. Pete dialed Myka again. After three rings, she answered.

"Pete?"

"Talk to me, Goose," said Pete. "Tell me you have something?"

"Depends, you got anything for me Maverick?" The moment the words left her lips, Myka turned a deep shade of red, and she cursed her slip of the tongue. There was no way, no how, not a snowball's chance in Hell he'd let this tasty little tidbit of information she just let slip slide.

"Something, possibly," said Pete. "Not sure yet. You find anything good?"

"Maybe," She started mysteriously, before she continued her tone turning serious, "Anyway I've got something, it turns out there was an unsolved serial from over two months ago, same MO, and it gets worse."

"There are more canopic jars?"

Myka froze stiff.

"How did you know that?"

"Call it a hunch."

"And here I thought your mind had wandered elsewhere in that library," She replied with a shake of her head, Pete was definitely smarter than she gave him credit for, that or he snuck a peek at her notes while they were huddled together in that library for three plus hours.

"So there are more of them then?"

"That's what Artie told me."

"Do we know where any of them are?"

"No clue, he didn't say, only told me how many could possibly be in existence."

"And how many would that be?"

"Six to eight."

"Crap."

"Yeah, so not good," She replied, no doubt sharing his sentiments, before she continued, "Did either of you have better luck on your end?"

"Sorta...," started Pete. "I'd rather discuss this with you here."

"Ok, meet you there in half hour?"

"Yeah," Pete said. "Hey Myka?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you have the need?" he asked. "The need for speed?"

Myka rolled her eyes as she held a hand to her forehead, of all the times he could ask her, he was asking her about this now?

"Pete…" Myka started in that infamous warning tone of hers that he had come to know oh so well.

"See you when you get here."

"Goodbye Pete." Answered Myka, her tone sickeningly sweet. She could have sworn he was grinning on the other end of the line, no doubt certain that she had all but given herself away with her answer and without another word, she hung up.

"I think you two have been working together longer than you let on," said John.

"You're one to talk." Replied Myka pointedly.

After hanging up with Myka, Pete walked back into the room. He wanted to hear more of what the good doctor was up to.

"So, how are we doing?" asked Pete.

"Well, it took some string pulling but I've cleared away most of the red tape."

"Good," said Monica. "So when can we see the records?"

"Oh you know, the usual legal BS, it'll take a few days to clear though, hospital policy and all."

"Few days, huh?" said Pete.

He had his phone in his hand and sent a quick text to Claudia. He needed a way around this snowjob that Julien was working.

"You're lucky I was even able to clear it with the hospital period. Now are you gonna let me do my job, or stand around and continue to hassle me, cause if it's the latter I can have you removed from the hospital grounds under suspected harassment."

"Don't be threatening, Doc," said Pete. "You won't like how I play the game."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Let's just say that I have you involved with two suspicious cases," said Pete. "Your background was fairly enlightening too."

"That lawsuit was a sham!" said Julien hoarsely. "She dropped the charges!"

"Still, suspicious grounds," said Monica, picking up on Pete's play.

"Now you can either be nice," said Pete. "Or you can try and play hardball against two federal law enforcement agencies."

Doctor Julien's face was nearly as red as a lobster when Pete finished. He picked up Marla Galen's chart and studied it, checking it against the readouts. Monica moved closer to Pete and whispered quietly to him.

"When did you get the background on him?" she asked. "You didn't share it with us."

"I didn't get it," said Pete. "I just made an educated guess."

"Dangerous game," said Monica. "But it worked."

"Yeah," Pete said quietly. "Hey, hold the fort for a minute."

"Where are you going?" asked Monica.

"Got another call to make."

"Be quick."

Pete left the room, cell phone in hand. He dialed up Myka as he walked hurriedly down the hall to examine the hospital directory. The phone rang once, then twice. His spidey-senses were working overtime for some reason.

"Come on, Myka...," said Pete under his breath.

On the fifth ring, Myka answered the phone.

"What is it Pete?" she asked. "We're coming up to the hospital now."

"What is the name of the unsolved serial?" asked Pete.

"Huh?" said Myka. "Pete, we're almost th-"

"Myka!" said Pete as he got into the elevator and pressed the button for the sixth floor. "Please, partner. Trust me here."

"Ok...Pete, I don't know what you're up to...," she started. "Rene Telsoni. That was the unsolved. What is going on Pete? Are you in trouble?"

"Not yet, but I'm probably about to be," said Pete as he hung up the phone.

As soon as the doors opened on the sixth floor, Pete exploded from the elevator car and ran through the halls, badge in hand. Orderlies, doctors, nurses and patients all looked at him as if he were mad.

"Make a hole!" Pete shouted as he ran for his destination. "Make a hole!"

Pete skidded to a halt on the tile floor outside of room 607; Medical Records Archives. The door was locked when he tried the handle.

"Why is it always the hard way?"

Stepping back, Pete lurched forward at the door and slammed his foot into it near the lock. The door exploded inward and two people, a man and a woman, jerked sharply at his entrance, dropping three stacks of files.

"Patient records?" said Pete hurriedly. "The 'T's!"

"Um...," started the man. "Down that aisle..."

"Thanks!" gasped Pete as he took off again. "Get out of here!"

He ran down the room and turned into the aisle as the man and woman took off. It was as he suspected. He spotted a woman down at the other end gathering files near a shredder. Cursing lightly to himself, he drew the Tesla and began walking down the aisle.

"FREEZE!" Pete shouted. "Move away from the shredder!"

The woman turned around and looked at him, his face a mixture of confusion and fear. She hesitated a moment and then turned back to get at the files.

"STOP!" shouted Pete again, but she didn't.

Pete aimed the Tesla and fired, striking the woman and knocking her over. He also fried the shredder. Fortunately the files were out of the way. He walked down the aisle to check on the woman and kneeled down, putting two fingers to her neck. She was still alive.

"Pete?" came a voice. "Pete?"

Near the second that Pete had ended the call, Myka took off like a shot for the stairs, not daring to even bother with the elevator, and she barely registered Doggett's voice in her ears.

The urgency in her partner's voice, the slight tingle of fear, it all set off alarm bells in her head, and she practically raced up the stairwell, her own heart enveloped in fear, what had happened? Was he okay? Her heart was pounding when she hit the sixth floor, she was barely halfway down the hall when a blinding flash filled the hallway and her heart sank. He fired the Tesla.

Without a second thought, Myka charged into the room, her SIG 229 drawn should she need it. Smoke filled the room and she coughed as she looked around spying a small fire, "Pete? Pete?" Myka raced forward as she spied a figure hunched over and she held a hand to her chest as her partner looked up at her and she fell back against a file cabinet, fighting back another cough.

"I had a feeling that Doc Julien was trying to flank us," said Pete. "Came down here and found this woman about to shred files from the 'T' section. They are related to that case. I checked."

"It's the Doctor? The same guy we first visited here?" She cringed when the sprinkler system went off, feeling the cool drops of water hit her face, nearly immediately Pete was back on his feet, throwing his suit jacket over the files, attempting to protect them from water damage. "Figures!" She retorted holstering her weapon as she moved to assist him.

"Are these all the files she had with her?" Myka asked once they had covered the files, she glanced back at the woman on the floor, and spoke up, "Who is she? Is she working with the Doctor?"

"Don't know yet," said Pete. "Was just following a hunch. Come on; let's get these files out of here. We'll come back for her."

Pete grabbed one armload of the files, while Myka grabbed another before they both beelined for the exit, near immediately they found themselves face-to-face with Agents Doggett and Reyes upon leaving the room.

"What the Hell happened to you?" Asked Doggett as he took in their appearance and Myka glanced over at Pete, deciding to let him start first, and she covered her mouth as she coughed.

"It's the Doc." Said Pete.

"Doctor Julien?" asked Doggett. "Where is he now?"

"The minute Pete left, he got a weird look in his eyes, and bolted muttering something about an emergency surgery, I tried to get him to stay, but he pushed me and we got into a brawl, he's handcuffed to the chair in the room now." Monica replied and it was just then John noticed she was favoring her left arm.

"You alright?" asked John.

"I flew into the doorjamb but other than that I'm fine, really." Replied Monica.

Pete came back out of the wet file room carrying the woman who he had stunned with the Tesla. He set her down on a string of chairs. "She was the one set to shred the files."

"Who is this woman? And what the Hell happened in there?" Asked Doggett as a fire crew could be spied running down the hall.

"Pete fired the Tesla, it's...basically...a stun gun...well it's not an ordinary gun. Anyway he knocked her out and toasted the shredder before she had a chance to destroy the files." Replied Myka.

"...and nearly set fire to the records room..." Added Monica.

"It was either that or shoot her with my SIG," said Pete. "I figure we learn more this way."

"Provided they'll even let us look at the files, patient confidentiality anyone?" Started Myka.

"Deceased patient," said Pete. "Deceased patient linked to a serial case with a current victim."

"I stand corrected," Replied Myka, "Think you two can handle the Doc, we should be able to manage here, provided Kirk here doesn't take off again." She stated with a roll of her eyes.

"Did you want the files or not?" asked Pete.

"Just be a little more careful with the Tesla next time?"

"Kill joy."

"We'll meet up later," She nodded to Reyes and Doggett, before she nodded at Pete, "C'mon Kirk." She hefted an armload of files into her arms before she walked off, and Pete quickly followed after her, albeit reluctantly, "This isn't going to turn into another captain debate is it?" She asked before he spoke.

"I still say Archer," said Pete. "T'Pol."

Myka raised an eyebrow at him before they continued their walk down the hallway, "I am so not a Vulcan."

"Are!" Pete coughed.

"Not!" She replied through gritted teeth.

"You're both hot?" offered Pete.

Myka blushed, before she quickly replied, "At least I don't have pointy ears."

"I don't think that'd be so bad...," said Pete with a wink. "Anyway, files!"

Pete set the files down on a table in an employee break room and began to examine them. He pressed a hand to his head, feeling a dull ache starting to form. He did not need this now. He had to go over the files. What was going on with his head?

Myka set down her set of files on the table near Pete, before she proceeded to shake out her suit jacket, and threw it over the back of the chair. Myka leaned over the chair, touching a hand to her chest, and she coughed once, then a second time, much more harshly. In an instance Pete was on his feet.

"Myka?" asked Pete as he looked at her. "What's wrong?"

"I think it's the smoke, I thought I was just winded earlier…" She wheezed as she leaned against Pete, her legs began to feel weaker, and to make matters worse she felt nauseous, weakly she touched a hand to his face, if she had been affected it was a safe bet so was he. "…are…are…you…?" Myka asked worriedly.

"Myka?" said Pete, his tone worried, even as his own head began to pound.

"After you called me…I bolted for the stairwell…ran up about…three flights…" She coughed out as Pete protectively wrapped an arm around her shoulders before he looped an arm under her legs, and scooped her up in his arms, Myka coughed again as she rested her head against his shoulder weakly. "P…ete…I'm so…sorry…"

Myka passed out in his arms as Pete stood there. He started to cough a little himself, which only made his headache worse. He began to become disoriented and his vision began to swim. Just then he heard some footsteps and turned to see Monica.

"Hey gu...," she started. "What's going on?"

"Myka...passed out," started Pete slowly. "Smoke. Got to get her to a doctor. Take the files...weapons..."

Monica took the firearms off of both Myka and Pete and collected the files. She would have to safeguard and study them while John went after the doctor. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed up her partner.

"You going to make it, Pete?" she asked, her voice edged with worry.

"Long enough...," said Pete. "My fault...Tesla...always hurting...her...why am I?"

Pete walked out of the room mumbling, his head swimming until he ran into two orderlies. They helped support him and took Myka out of his arms in order to put them both onto gurneys for transport. Pete swung at one of the men, but could not see straight.

"Easy pal!" said one of the orderlies. "We're here to help you!"

Pete stared hard at them for a moment and then collapsed into a chair holding his head.

"I'm...s-sorry...Myka..."

***


	22. Chapter 22

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**UPMC Mercy Hospital, Room 513**

**11:21 AM**

Pete sat quietly dozing in a chair by his partner's bedside. He lay back slightly and an open Guns and Ammo magazine lay on him. It had been a long night for both of them and his headache had just started to go away when he fell asleep.

Myka's eyes opened groggily and she grimaced, feeling first a sharp pain in her chest. It was then she became aware of a foreign sensation to her nose, and automatically she lifted her hand up only to have her wrist halted in mid-movement, she was hooked to an IV line. What happened? Was she hallucinating again? Where was her partner?

"Pete…?" She called out fearfully, "Pete?"

Pete jerked away, the magazine falling to the floor with a loud snapping sound. Pete jumped up and pushed the chair back, his hand instinctively going for his pistol. He realized what had happened and where he was and stopped.

Near immediately, Myka moved to sit up, concern welling up inside of her at the sight of her partner, "Pete!"

"Hey partner," said Pete as he walked over to her, a slight smile on his face.

"What happened…why…why…I…am…?" She started weakly, and Pete gently grasped her hand, hushing her as he spoke softly, "Myka, you were suffering from moderately severe symptoms of smoke inhalation, they had to intubate you...they've got you on oxygen and IV fluids..."

"You, are you ok?" She asked suddenly, interrupting him, her voice sounded small, full of worry and fear. It never failed; she could be severely banged up, battered and bruised, and even if meant further risk to herself, she would still drag herself back to her feet to keep him safe, putting his own safety before her own.

"I was on oxygen and bed rest for a few hours," started Pete. "They wanted to keep me here for observation, so I stayed under the condition that I was able to stay in here with you. You can leave later today."

"You were here with me the entire night?" She asked quietly, touched by his admission.

"Yup."

It was then she became aware of the hospital gown she was wearing as Pete's thumb gently stroked her shoulder and she automatically pulled her blanket closer, before she spoke again. "What about Doctor Julien? Is he still in custody?"

"John and Monica are out hunting down Doctor Julien," said Pete as he sat back in the chair. "He escaped during the confusion."

Pete looked away as he said those last words. The confusion that he had caused with the Tesla. The same confusion that sent his partner to a hospital bed. Standing, Pete looked out of the room's window and then walked towards the door.

"I'm going to get something to drink," he said. "I'll bring you back an unsweetened tea."

Pete pushed through the door and left the room, going down the hall towards the cafeteria.

Myka leaned back against the bed pillows, closed her eyes and sighed. Pete was upset, no two ways about it. She could only imagine what Artie's reaction would be when he learned about this, she was more than certain that the words "read" and "manual" would be involved.

As if on cue, a metallic buzzing sound filled the quiet of the hospital room. Sitting up, Myka cast a glance around the room, trying to locate the sound's source. She sighed as she spied the device sitting atop a table stationed near the wall at the edge of her bed.

As carefully as possible, Myka stood up and walked towards the table, she was almost near the table when she felt herself jerked to a halt, turning on her heel she gasped as she spied the IV stand falling in her direction and without a second thought she dove for the device and quickly stationed it to a standing position, landing in a half crouched position.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Myka slowly stood up, grabbing hold of the side of the bed for support as she pulled herself to her feet. Myka gave out a surprised yelp as she spied her partner and she automatically reached for the back of her hospital gown in a frantic attempt to cover up as she stumbled backwards, all the while cursing whoever it was that decided hospital gowns be so shamelessly revealing. Granted she was in her skivvies, but even still…

"You look…good," Said Pete.

Myka said nothing, and instead yanked the blanket off the bed, hurriedly covering herself up as Pete set down the drinks, before he proceeded to answer the Farnsworth.

"Hey Artie."

"I've been trying to reach you both for hours, where the Hell have you been?" Pete grimaced as his boss yelled at him, and he sat down on the edge of the bed slowly, sighing before he spoke.

"Been under the weather," Said Pete. "Hospitalized."

"Hospitalized?" Artie practically shouted, "Why did you both get hospitalized, were you attacked?"

"It involved using the Tesla to subdue a suspect," Said Pete quietly. "In a records room..."

Artie took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he did, and he ran a hand through his curly hair in exasperation. "Pete how many times do I have to tell you both to be careful with the Tesla! It's a miracle you didn't set the entire records room on fire! And for God's sake would it kill you to read the manual?"

"Best idea at the time, boss," Said Pete.

Sighing Artie spoke again, "Well the main thing is you're both okay, anyway I've been doing some research, and as it turns out only six of eight jars were discovered, two of which are currently unaccounted for. Of the other six, only two are currently in our possession, locked away in the Dark Vault."

"So that leaves four in the open," Commented Pete. "These things aren't easy to find either."

"Exactly, which means it's possible that the good Doctor may have an accomplice. This priest, the knife's original possessor, Chatuluka, had many, _many_ followers, and supposedly even power over the pharaoh himself."

"Oh, you found the history of the knife?" Asked Pete. "Cool."

"Not really," Artie started as he flipped through some papers. "Apparently this Chatuluka was a high priest. However, he was into some very unpriestly dealings and vices. He was also quite the power hungry SOB. He had a massive influence for many years until he finally pushed it too far when he disgraced the body of the pharaoh's recently deceased daughter."

"Whoa...," Said Pete.

"Indeed," Artie nodded. "The pharaoh discovered his treachery and punished him with a rather cruel method of torture."

"What was it?" Asked Myka.

"He was buried alive after suffering a number of other...indignities."

"Ouch," Pete said, getting the reference. "So what is the deal with the knife?"

"This knife, its hunger knows no bounds, you must find it, it and the jars before further havoc can be wrought, or more lives are lost." Replied Artie grimly, before he turned off the Farnsworth.

Pete whistled softly as he closed the Farnsworth, pondering over what he had heard. He turned and looked at Myka.

Myka hesitantly cast a glance around the room, averting her gaze from her partner's, she reddened as he leaned a little closer, and softly touched a hand to her back, and he glanced at her right shoulder blade closely. "Is that a second tat…?" He spoke softly, and Myka reached a hand up to readjust her hospital gown before he could get a closer look. "It's nothing, really." She stated embarrassedly.

"Umm, did either Monica or John bring us a change of clothing?" She asked, quickly changing the subject.

"I think so," Said Pete. "Here. Monica dropped this off earlier. I also have our weapons."

"Thanks," She replied as he handed her the duffel bag, the pair held the other's gaze for a long moment, neither saying anything. Pete was the first to speak up, breaking the silence, "Myka…"

"Pete…I'm okay, don't worry, please."

"I'm sorry you got hurt because of me," Said Pete. "I acted on instinct and got us both laid up. If Julien wasn't on the run right now..."

"Listen to me, you're a good partner," She started firmly, and she paused before she continued, "At first when I got partnered with you, I didn't know what to make of you. I thought for sure you would drive me batty, and honestly sometimes you still do," She replied with a sheepish smile as she grasped his hand in hers, her voice shook visibly as she spoke again, "But honestly? There's no one else I'd rather be partnered with, I can't see myself doing this with anyone else as my partner, and that's because I know you'll always have my back, no matter what, and together we will catch this guy."

Reaching out to gently touch Myka's cheek, Pete leaned in and gave her a soft kiss on the lips.

Myka threaded her hands through Pete's hair as she returned the kiss tenderly, and he gently traced his fingers through her locks, his free hand coming to rest on the other side of her face. Myka wrapped her arms snugly around Pete's neck as he pulled back, and she kissed his cheek softly. His selflessness was both a strong point and a weak point for him, but she loved him all the more for it regardless.

"Are you good?" Spoke Pete softly.

"I told you, I'm okay," She chuckled, "Now let me up, we've got an artifact to bag."

"You better get dressed first," Commented Pete with a slight smile.

Myka blushed and nodded, "Yeah, I probably should." Hopping off the bed, Myka grabbed the duffel bag, and walked in the direction of the bathroom. She paused as she pushed open the bathroom door, hearing her partner call out to her, "So what is that on your shoulder, tribal art?"

Casting a glance in her partner's direction, Myka smiled slightly at his question.

"I have another tattoo, but it's not on my shoulder."

"We'll have to discuss that later."

Shaking her head, Myka stepped inside the bathroom to change, and cleaned herself up using the small shower space. The water fluctuated between hot and cold sporadically, but she relished the opportunity to rid herself of the stench of the smoke regardless. Several minutes later she emerged from the bathroom, changed and refreshed. Pete smiled at her slightly as he flipped his magazine closed, "Ready Goose?"

Myka nodded, giving him a sweet smile, "I'm ready."

"I can't believe you have seen Top Gun."

"So what if I have?"

"It's a borderline chick flick, which I thought you don't watch." Commented Pete.

"This coming from a man who owns a copy of Serendipity." She replied in jest.

"Hey, Kate Beckinsale makes any movie good," Said Pete. "She would play you in a movie about us."

"Fanboy," She chided with a shake of her head, "And who would play you, David Boreanz?"

"Got me," Said Pete. "Come on. I'll call up our favorite F.B.I. guys and get a sitrep."

Myka nodded, and she slung her duffel bag over one shoulder, "Lets grab some real food while we're at it, then we nail this guy." She replied as the pair made their way towards the door.

She honestly hoped that before this day was over with they would find not only the Doctor, but also the artifacts. This thing had to be stopped, enough damage had already been wrought, but this knife, and these jars, if they fell into the wrong hands, say that MacPherson character, they would be in for a whole world of trouble. The sooner they found them both, the better.

Pete got on his cell phone and called up Monica and set up a meet. The rendezvous location was an address, Pete wrote it down in his notepad. It was the address of the local F.B.I. field office.

"What is the game plan?" Asked Pete.

"We've been hunting Julien since he fled the hospital," Started Monica. "We have agents out now, with local PD cooperating. We already have a broadcast that will air on the six o'clock and ten o'clock news as well as all local radio stations. We're going to tighten the net."

"Where are we on searching his place?"

"Not far yet, still waiting on the paperwork," Monica said. "We have two unmarked cars at his address on stakeout now."

"Missed a lot, didn't we?" Laughed Pete.

"It's ok," Chuckled Monica. "We've been taking care of your guys."

"Appreciate it," Said Pete. "See you in twenty."

Pete hung up the phone and filled Myka in on what all had happened while they were in the hospital. She shook her head at how quickly things had moved while they were down.

"So, where did you want to go eat?" Asked Pete.


	23. Chapter 23

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**Downtown**

**Two Days Later**

**9:47 PM**

Benita Torrez was walking home from her job at a car rental company. It was late because she had been helping with the bookkeeping to get in some overtime. College was not cheap and she wanted to get away from the small-time jobs and do something with her life as a botanist. This overtime was a last minute opportunity and she had not had any time to study yet for her exam tomorrow. She pulled out her text book and opened it at the bookmark as she walked to the bus stop.

She was buried in her reading, holding the book in one hand and a flashlight in the other. She hated when he job kept her late. She did not like walking around in the city after dark.

She looked up and saw that the bus stop was ahead and she checked her watch. The digital dial showed a time of nine-fifty-two. The next bus stopped at around ten. She had made good time. Maybe she could get a bottle of soda from the vendor at the corner before the bus arrived. Ah, the little pleasures in life. Closing her book, she turned slightly to slip it back into her satchel bag.

As she opened the flap, she felt a pair of hands grab her roughly and shove her into an alley by the thrift shop. She screamed bloody murder and lashed out with her flashlight, hands and feet. Still, it was not enough. Even though her attacker was wheezing heavily, he was incredibly strong and fast.

He shoved her up against a wall and slapped her, hard. She screamed again and this time, he punched her, sending her to the ground on top of a small pile of old plastic milk crates. She felt her nose and mouth bleeding and her consciousness fading. She thought that she was done for as the hands grabbed her under her arms and started to drag her.

"Hey!" Came a voice. "You there! HALT!"

The hands, they still had her.

"I said FREEZE, dirtbag!"

The hands released her and she fell hard.

"Hey! Drop the knife! Down on the ground!" Came the voice again. "You hear me? DROP IT! HALT!"

She heard footsteps and then some loud noises. Two, maybe three of them. Gunshots? She didn't know. She was scared still, even as she felt the blackness slipping in around her. That was when she felt a hand on her shoulder. A different hand and she was not scared.

"Miss? Miss, are you conscious?" Came the voice. "Hang on; I have help on the way. Just stay with me, hear? Stay with me!"

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**F.B.I. Field Office**

**1:13 AM**

Pete and Myka entered the field office of the F.B.I., their faces showing their fatigue. They had just spent ten hours in a cramped car with nothing more than cold coffee and Twizzlers to sustain them. Their muscles ached from being cramped up for so long. As of this moment they wanted nothing more than some hot coffee, a shower and some halfway decent food.

Walking into an office they shared with Doggett and Reyes, they took off their coats and crashed onto the sofa. The coffee maker was hot and brewing, which they were thankful for. Pete got up and made them each a cup which consisted of two of the plain white mugs filled with black coffee and nothing else.

He handed one to Myka and then sat down and sank into a slouched position and sipped at the warm coffee. After a few minutes they would begin their shift activity report. That should take another hour or two and then they would hit the diner near their hotel and then go to bed.

Two days of burning through shoe leather and tires looking for Doctor Drake Julien and nothing. They staked out his house and three of his closest coworkers, his favorite restaurant, his neighbors, even his dry cleaners. Not a sign of him to be had. They were still waiting on the warrant for the search of his home.

Pete and Myka drank their coffee and then got up for a refill before making their way over to their desks to write up their report. Pete couldn't wait to get something hot to eat at the diner, even if he was dead tired. His stomach had been growling for the last two hours. As they sat down and sharpened their pencils a knock sounded at the door.

Looking up, Pete saw a young F.B.I. agent looking in at them.

"Are you the Secret Service agents?" He asked. "Lattimer and Bering?"

"Yes?" Said Pete. "What's going on?"

"Got this fax from the Pennsylvania State Troopers?" He said as he examined the piece of paper in his hand. "That guy you were looking for, Drake Julien? He was brought in by the meat wagon a couple of hours ago."

"What?" Said Myka jumping up and going over to the young agent. She snatched the paper from his hand and looked it over.

"Thanks," Said Pete to the young agent. "What does it say, Myka?"

"It says that he was approached by a State Trooper at approximately 10:55 yesterday in an alley downtown.," she started. "Suspected rapist. Was caught attacking a young woman. He attempted to attack the trooper with a large knife and was shot three times. He..."

"He, he what?" Asked Pete.

"He died on the scene."

"What?" Said Pete. "Crap!"

"What happened?" Asked Monica as she and John walked into the office from their own long night.

"State trooper shot and killed Drake Julien a little less than three hours ago in downtown Pittsburgh!" Said Pete.

"No friggin' way...," Said John, pausing in the middle of taking off his coat. "Damn it."

"Confirmed?" Asked Monica.

"Dental and fingerprints," Said Myka.

"Damn it," Commented Monica. "Well, we got word on the way in that the warrant came through."

John slipped his coat back on and grabbed the keys. "Let's go then."

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**

**Julien's Residence**

**2:07 AM**

With the warrant in hand, the four agents moved on the Julien home and made their way inside. Pete and Myka took the ground floor with the two F.B.I. agents moving to clear the upstairs. After a ten minute sweep they all met in the living room.

"Basement?" Said Pete.

"Basement." John replied.

Locating the basement door, they found it to be padlocked. John went to the kitchen and searched the drawers, coming back with a hammer. He broke the lock in two strikes and pulled the remnants away, dropping them on the floor. They opened the door briskly, ducking away at first and then Myka turned on her flashlight and illuminated the stairs. Nothing hostile in sight. Checking the wall, she found a switch and turned it on.

The lights came on down in the basement, almost giving it a cheery glow. Slowly, the agents made their way down into the basement. The first section was a stereotypical man-cave design. Wood paneling, rustic look with a large TV, sofa, a bar, a refrigerator full of beer and snacks and various games like darts and cards.

Opening the door to the next section, they found it to be relatively unfinished. A mud room with a washer and dryer, some cheap throw rugs and a larger heavy plastic sink. Nothing overly sinister.

"This is just odd," Said Pete.

"Yeah," Said Monica quietly.

"I get the feeling that something is off though," Pete commented softly.

"But what?" Said John.

As they walked into the room, Myka's foot landed on something that did not sound like a concrete floor. Everyone froze. Turning, they walked to where Myka was standing and pulled aside the cheap rug that lay there. A hinged door made of plywood was exposed.

"Chances are this is what was off," Said Pete.

Myka shot him her patented "Ya think?" look as John examined the door and found it to also be locked. A few minutes later and the hammer worked its magic yet again. John and Pete yanked up the door and almost instantly all four agents gagged from the rush of foul smelling air that issued forth.

"Good God," Said John.

"What the Hell is that?" Asked Myka as she coughed and reached for her handkerchief.

John, Pete and Monica exchanged looks and pulled out their handkerchiefs as well. Very slowly, one after the other, they four agents made their way down the metal chain ladder into the darkness. The agent above using their lights to illuminate the ground below.

John was the first one on the ground below, shining his light around. He held his sidearm in his right hand and held his breath until Monica was next to him. She had tied her handkerchief around her mouth and nose and now covered John as he did the same. Then she covered the two Secret Service agents while John looked around.

"Got a light!" Called John, his voice muffled slightly by the mask.

A slight snick sound of a chain being pulled and the lower room lit up like a Las Vegas casino. Only instead of intricate signs and slot machines, it was an array of dusty shelves lined with glass jars, dried blood, old books and a sight that caused Myka and Pete to look at each other.

"The jars!" said Myka as she rushed over to them. "Quick, Pete!"

Pete tossed her a pair of purple gloves and slipped on a set of his own before getting out a couple of large, foil-Mylar looking bags.

"What are you doing?" Asked Monica.

"We have to neutralize the artifacts and prep them for transport and storage." Said Pete. "Back at base."

"We'll need that," Said John.

"No you won't," Said Pete as he pointed at a mason jar on the shelf and the next couple next to it. Each jar had a blackened, shriveled heart inside. "Chances are you'll find that those organs belong to the past victims."

John went over and looked at the jars, as did Monica. They looked at each other and shrugged. It was not like anyone would believe them about the canopic jars anyway. John opened his cell phone and called the field office for a crime scene unit.

"The knife isn't here," Myka said after searching the work bench and shelves. "And we only have three jars."

"Julien had a knife when he attacked the trooper," Started Pete. "Was it recovered?"

"It wasn't in the possessions log on the form," Said John.

"Alley," Said Pete and Myka in unison.

"Wow, that is creepy," Said John.

"Well, here is where we part ways," said Pete. "You got the body and the...body parts. The secret room and all of this DNA evidence. We're going to take the jars and go find that knife. F.B.I. gets the credit."

"It's been...educational," Said John as he shook Pete's hand.

"Definitely!" Returned Pete.

"Goodbye," Said Myka with Monica shaking her hand.

"Take care you two," Said Monica. "Look us up if you need help on another case like this, huh?"

"First ones we'll call," Myka smiled.

Pete and Myka made their way back to their car and drove downtown to the alley. After an hour of searching, they found the knife hiding under an old, empty carton of cigarettes. Oddly enough, it smelled like fudge. The fourth canopic jar in Julien's possession was found in a pile of old clothing near where he had fallen.

After Pete sealed the bag with the knife inside, Myka opened the Farnsworth and called up Artie. His face appeared on the monitor shortly thereafter.

"How goes the hunt, agents?" He asked.

"Four canopic jars and one knife...," Started Myka.

"...Snagged, bagged and tagged!" Pete finished.

"Good work, children," Artie said. "Now come on home. I think we all had enough fun in Pittsburgh hanging out with the F.B.I. Be careful now."

"Right Artie," said Myka and then she closed the Farnsworth.

"Been a Hell of a couple of days, huh?" said Pete.

"It sure has."

"Oh hey, just got a text from Monica," said Pete. "Marla woke up about half an hour ago. She's fine. A little foggy, but otherwise okay."

"She came to, just like that, no weird heart anomalies or anything?" Replied Myka, her brow furrowing in confusion. Frankly she couldn't help but be confused, the victims all had their hearts extracted, and if that was the case, did they simply return to their bodies with the neutralization of the artifacts? "Do you think it's possible her heart returned to her body when we neutralized the jar?" She asked as she studied the bagged jar they had just recovered curiously.

Pete shrugged, "Got me. For all intents and purposes, she's fine, according to what Monica found out. We'll have to ask Artie about it, if anything though I'm glad she's ok." Replied Pete.

"Yeah, me too," Myka said, smiling. "I'll have to send her some flowers."

"Come on, partner," said Pete, putting an arm around her shoulders. "I'll buy you a garden burger and a yogurt shake."

"Very funny," she said.

"I thought so, Hutch."

"What?"

"Starsky and Hutch?" said Pete. "Classic '70s TV cop show? Watched it all the time as a kid."

"Pete!"

"Alright, alright," said Pete putting up his hands in a placating manner. "I won't talk about it."

"Good."

"Until we're sitting down at the diner."

"Pete!"

Pete roared with laughter as the two made their way back to their car and started for the diner. The five artifacts that had caused all of this trouble were bagged and tagged and secured in a cooler in the trunk of their car.

Things had not worked out exactly as they had hoped but they did save Marla. Julien met a fate that was perhaps fitting for his cruelty and the artifacts were taken out of action. Those that they found anyway. The two jars that were not located as of yet weighed slightly in the back of both agents minds as well as the possibility of Julien having an accomplice. Artie would keep looking though and they did have the knife. Hopefully they made a difference.

Hopefully. Either way, they would have a long trip back to think it over.

"What about Miami Vice?" said Pete. "Surely you've heard of Crockett and Tubbs?"

"PETE!"

**THE END**


End file.
